The House of Mirth
by GlimmeringB52
Summary: AU As a runaway, single parent, and high school grad with no hope for a college education, Inuyasha's stressful life has gone down the drain. When life gets much too hard to bear, he must set aside his pride and accept help.
1. The Last Straw

**The House of Mirth**

**By: MoonTurnip**

**Chapter One: The Last Straw**

The Bastard finally did it. He beat Shippou. I have no idea how it happened, or how long he was like this, but the kit's tiny body was black and blue when I got home. I feel so useless. I wasn't there to protect him; I had to go to school.

The kit was sick today, and he had to stay home from the day care I usually bring him to on my way to school. I was worried, but not as worried as I should have been. I left him with the creep that calls himself my guardian, and now he can barely breathe. I think one of his ribs is broken. There is blood still pouring out of his nose, and his eyes are swollen shut.

I had not wanted to miss the test. Tests are very important. Tests get me good grades, and good grades get me a spot in a good college. Once I move out, Shippou will come with me, and we will leave behind that bastard and his boozed-up fits of rage. It was okay when he was only beating me, because I could handle it. As much as I want to get away from him, Shippou needs food, clothes, a place to sleep, an education, trips to the doctor, friends, and a normal life. He's lost so much already and I can't deny him any of the things he needs.

The Bastard finally did it, but this is insane. This is beyond cruelty, and I won't stand for it. Screw him, screw this place, and screw this life. We are leaving.

I have been saving up any money I can get my hands on. Money I earned working at Shippou's daycare, mostly. I have several thousand dollars in my room under some floorboards. I would love to leave right now, but the dirty bastard is home. He's probably passed out in front of the television. I can hear it from the other end of the apartment.

I tread quietly to the bathroom and pick up the first aid kit. The Bastard has no use for it, but I have used it too many times to count. As I walk by the living room, I peer in to see what The Bastard is doing. He's engrossed in a youkai boxing show, and he laughs as one opponent looses an eye to a snapping turtle youkai's lightning-fast attack. I sneer and quietly sneak back down the hall to my room. The sick bastard takes pleasure in other people's pain.

The room is so quiet when I enter it that I fear that Shippou has stopped breathing. What would I do then? How do you get a child breathing again with a broken rib? I dash over to his still form, the blood rushing in my ears. Closer to him I can see the very slight rise and fall of his chest and hear the tiny puffs of air. I sigh in relief and take a moment to calm down. The first rule of a sick room is to be calm. You should not have any strong emotions. You need to be calm and focused on your task to do a good job.

The first thing I do is dissolve some aspirin in a tablespoon of water. Kneeling by the bed, I cradle his head in my hand and spoon the liquid into the back of his throat. That should help with the pain and prevent a fever. I can't do anything for his bloody nose except clean his face. His nose isn't broken, but it is bad enough that he'll have raccoon eyes for a few hours. I have some special balm to put on bruises that makes them feel cool and relieves the throbbing. Tsuyo, Shippou's daycare lady, gave it to me when I came into work sporting a bruise in a rather delicate area. The stupid muscle-head pushed me in front of a pick-up truck when I was looking the other way. It wasn't going very fast, but it still caught me pretty hard down my back and tailbone.

I can remember how scared I was. The blood welled up in my throat, and a jarring pain shot through my entire body. Tsuyo was furious, and the only reason she didn't call the police was because I almost begged her not to.

I smear the cooling balm on Shippou's face and arms. I try not to be careful, but some movement is unavoidable and it causes him to whimper tiredly. Tears leak out of his eyes, but he remains unconscious. His ribs are the hardest part. I have no idea on how to set them, and no idea how to make them heal right. I do not want them to heal in a position where they might dig into an organ. He is not coughing up blood, though, so I guess it will be okay to just leave it for the day or two it will take to heal, but as soon as he can be moved, we are out of here. I will not let him be beaten by that bastard.

A cold cloth over his eyes will hopefully bring down the swelling, but there's nothing more I can do for him now. I prop him up against a pillow and cover him with the red blanket on my bed, trying to make him as comfortable as possible; I'm just furious, and worried, and guilty about letting him get hurt. Even moving him around doesn't bring him into consciousness, and I have to bite back a shout of anger. Shippou needs sleep to recover; it's good he is not awake.

Now the only thing to do is face The Bastard and try to keep him from noticing Shippou. I quietly make my way to the kitchen and take out some food. It is almost five, so I need to start making dinner. I can hear him laughing again as I cut up the peppers.

He stays entranced with the television while I cook. It is quickly done, but he won't come in until his show has ended. He'll beat me for interrupting, but then he will beat me for doing something else wrong.

My fingers clench, and I grit my teeth angrily at the fruitless situation.

He walks in and sneers at me briefly before sitting at his seat. His plate is piled high with food and the pan is sitting in the center of the table. I stand by the fridge, like I'm supposed to. Like a servant waiting on the master of the house. He does not even look at me as he sits down and sourly eats his food. I stand stiffly, waiting for the complaint that will earn me a beating.

"Shithead," he snaps. I look at him, keeping my face bland. My shoulders tense, waiting for the threats and violence. He glares at me and throws his fork down noisily. The chair is pushed back violently as he gets to his feet. What will it be this time? The chicken is too salty? There are too many onions? There are no red peppers? These reasons may seem strange, and no cause for a beating, but they have all been used against me before.

"Answer me when I talk to you, dipshit," he growls.

"Yes sir?" I reply blandly. Never talk back, never show emotion, never react, and never make any unnecessary sound.

"The fucking food is cold you ash hole," he slurs angrily. I do nothing but glare at the wall in front of me. I want to lash out, to do something to get back at him for beating a helpless child, but I can do nothing. I cannot draw any more attention to myself or to Shippou. Not until he's better and we can leave.

My silence seems to anger him more. He grabs my shirt and slams me into the fridge. He grinds my nose into the hard plastic and I hear him fumble with his belt.

"You lazy fucking retard, are you too stupid to put the damn food into a fucking dish first?" he taunts as he pushes my face harder and harder into the fridge.

"I betta not hear one shound outta you, unlessh you want the fucking brat to die," he hisses. I hate him. I hate him with such a passion that it nearly blinds me sometimes. His threats against Shippou keep me still and quiet. I'm not stupid; I know I can't be with the kit all the time. It would be too easy for him to hurt Shippou while I am away. Like today. I would have left long before, but until now he only threatened to hurt Shippou. So I stayed and took the beatings so Shippou could have the things he needed.

It makes the beatings easier to bear -- this reason I can put to the senseless violence. I know that I'm protecting someone. That is one of the most valuable things I have in my life. And living so long with The Bastard, I _know_ that I deserve this punishment. Why else would he hate me so much...?

I hear him unbuckle that huge rodeo buckle that he always wears and slither the leather belt out of his pants. My muscles tense as I hear him wrap the end around his hand.

"Dammit, not the buckle! You promised!" I shout.

"You're a damn piece of hanyou trash, so shut up! You've brought this on yourshelf," he growls out. Then the blows come; slapping my back, cutting into my shoulders, bruising my head. Anywhere and everywhere he can see gets hit with that cursed belt buckle. He still pushes my face into the fridge so I can barely breathe. I stay completely still, and every time I feel that giant, heavy, buckle hit my back, I recite a silent mantra. I deserve it, I deserve it, I deserve it, I deserve it, I deserve it...

I have no idea how long it goes on. It's happened so many times, that I stopped caring long ago. I try not to flinch, but the sharp edge hits my ear, drawing blood.

Eventually he gets bored and his temper wears out, but not before the skin of my back is raw. My nose all but broken and I can feel the blood trickling down my scalp and neck from my numerous head wounds. He throws down the belt in disgust and goes back to his cold supper.

I stand there, trying to keep my breathing even and unaffected. I will not move until he is gone. I will not run from the room like a coward and give him the satisfaction of knowing that he managed to fuck me over – in more ways than one. It kills my pride to bow down and submit before his sadistic temper. If I ever made him mad enough, though, he would go after Shippou, and the only way to stop him would be to kill him. Even if I had enough money to hire a lawyer and get off the hook with self defense, Shippou would be separated from me by child services. I'm still a minor for Christ's sake!

That's why I never defended myself, after I realized I could fight back. That's why I remained unresponsive and allowed the beatings to continue.

Now The Bastard gets up. He leaves everything where it is, knowing I will clean it up. As he passes, I get a kick to the back of my knees that forces them to collapse. His knee rams the side of my head, toppling my balance and sending my face into the fridge again. Then he's out the door and on his way back to the television where a bottle of whiskey and a six pack of beer await him, while I struggle to stop the room from spinning.

I cannot stop a sigh of relief after hearing the TV turn on. I wipe the blood off my face with my sleeve, and moving as fast as I can, I scarf some of the food that's left. I do a half-assed job of cleaning the kitchen; it's less than immaculate, but it's good enough. When I'm done I load some leftover food into a bowl for Shippou.

Before I go back to him I stop by the bathroom. I pull off my shirt carefully and examine the damage. The skin of my back is red and raw, and there are some bruises already starting to form; long stripes criss-cross all over in some insane pattern. I try to clean off the blood as well as I can, then pull back my hair in an elastic tie. I can do nothing about the bloody shirt. If Shippou is awake, will he notice if I just keep my front turned to him?

Shippou should not have to see the result of The Bastard's violence. I try so hard to keep my injuries out of his sight and smell, but a part of me, the selfish illogical part, wants to show him every bruise and get his sympathy. I want him to be proud that he has a protector.

I hate that I let this happen! This is too much for him, and he's not ready for it. I don't want him to grow up to be a worthless, abused freak like I am!

I failed to protect him today...

I hurry down the hall and open the door to my room. He's awake and staring at the ceiling. His eyes flicker towards me and barely register my presence as I enter before he returns his gaze to the ceiling.

"Hey," I say and kneel down next to the bed. I see he has been crying.

"Hi," he croaks out.

"I've got some food for you," I say, tilting the bowl so he can see it. "Eat some, and then I can put some more stuff on those bruises."

"I heard what happened," he says abruptly. My face falls -- not that I was smiling to begin with.

"Shippou," I sigh, "It's not your fault, you know."

"Yes it is. Everything's my fault. Mom died because of me, Stepdad hits you because of me."

"No, Shippou. Whatever he told you isn't true. _Nothing _is your fault. It never was your fault, and you had absolutely nothing to do with your mom's death." I can see he still does not believe me. It will take a while to convince him, but he decides to drop it.

"Here, eat some food. It'll help get your strength up," I say. He complies and slowly raises himself to rest against my pillow. I take the fork and bit by bit, feed him half the bowl. A piece of chicken, some peppers; he doesn't like the onions so I munch on some while he chews. When he can't eat any more I set the bowl on the floor and take out the balm again.

"Shippou, you need to tell me what happened," I say. He looks at me, then drops his eyes to his shirt and starts to fiddle with the buttons. "Shippou, tell me."

"I-I was in here. You told me to rest and drink a lot of water, so I only went to the kitchen when Stepdad went to the bathroom. My nose was runny and I was sniffling a lot." He pauses. "Then he came in and said that the sniffing was annoying him, and then he hit me..."

"I'm sorry Shippou," I say as I spread goop on his chest lightly. "I wasn't there to protect you and I should have been. It won't happen again," I promise.

"How do you know? What about tomorrow? What if I get sick again?"

"Shippou, I promise that he'll never lay a hand on you ever again," I say vehemently. He lays there with his eyes closed for a while and then looks up and nods, a small smile coming to his face. I button his shirt back up and fix the covers. It's 8:30 and Shippou is getting tired again. He cracks a yawn and sniffs.

"Can I have Myoga?" he asks me. I nod and tuck the stuffed flea in with him. He snuggles his face into it and closes his eyes.

I gingerly settle down on the floor to do homework. My shirt is now somewhat stiff with the dried blood, and the fabric irritates every inch of my back.

Shippou's breath starts to even off, and as he goes to sleep I mutter, "Night, squirt."

He grunts sleepily, "G'night Inuyasha."

**AN:** Ironic that it's Inuyasha who's all serious over tests, ne? Bet you thought it was Kagome all this time; and you get a virtual cookie if you guessed Inuyasha. He might be a bit out of character, but I don't care. I plan for this to be a long story, but I don't know when I'll finish, or how long it will be. No promises on updating – I've learned my lesson. The plot is undergoing some revisions. Also, the rest of the chapters I have up are not edited. Those will be corrected.

I would like to give a _huge_ thank you to HieiWannabe and Xue1, my Betas, (HieiWannabe for chapters 1-5, and Xue1 helped me out with this first chapter) for editing my work.

**Disclaimer**: I do not own Inuyasha or any related characters.


	2. Depravity

**AN: **Chapter two contains a very dark lemon. Due to the fact that I do not want my account deleted, it will now only be accessible on my Mediaminer account, named after my dear, dear first account that was tragically deleted. **There is a link to the unedited version of The House of Mirth on my profile. **However, the chapter does contain an important piece of information. It is nothing you can't read later, but if you do want to read it, but not read the lemon, it is at the very bottom of the chapter.

Anyway, so this is not considered just an author's note, I will write a very short ficlet that has absolutely nothing to do with the story.

.o.

.o.

.o.

Kagome looked at the destruction all around. God knows how long it would take to put everything right. People would cry, a hanyou would get sat; and after many grueling and exhausting hours, they would have made some dent in the carnage that surrounded them.

Kagome walked over to the red-clad figure in the middle of ground zero. She would _never_ give him his own case of Ramen again.

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Inuyasha or any related characters.


	3. Making Preparations

**The House of Mirth**

**By: Moon Turnip**

**Chapter 3: Preparations**

A door slamming wakes me up. Who is up at this hour? I unstick my face from the textbook that I fell asleep on and glance at the clock. 3:37 A.M. I groan and roll onto my back.

My hearing has come back and all the sounds from outside my door can filter under. I can plainly hear The Bastard and his bitch going at it. Why can't they do that stuff somewhere else, like they usually do? The stench of their sex wafts across my nose, and I gag. They are so fucking disgusting.

Shippou stirs on the bed. His face is scrunched up against the smell, and he will wake unless I do something. Searching the room, I look for something I can drape over his face to block out the disturbing smell. Emerging from my closet, I'm holding a small green quilted blanket. Shippou's mother made it for me when she made Myoga, the stuffed flea, for Shippou, who was just an infant at the time.

Silently padding over to the kit, I drape the blanket over his face, and he quiets down again. I sigh in relief; it would not have been good if I had to explain what was happening.

I hear the door slam again. The Bastard's whore is gone and he's making his way down the hall. Quickly, I jump back into my position with my head lying on my history book for a pillow. I even out my breath and try to relax my muscles as he opens the door and I can practically hear his sneer.

He closes the door and goes to his room, but not after drenching the room with his disgusting scent. It's everywhere; and it clings to everything. Oh, God, I'll never get the stink out, and I doubt I'll fall asleep for the rest of the night. Should I study some more? No, I doubt I can stuff any more information on the American Revolution into my head.

I should get started on planning our escape. I think I can keep us in a small apartment for about a month before we run out of money, counting the deposit. It would have to be a crappy apartment, though. No furniture, either. I think I have all the necessary papers. I even have a set of Onigumo's documents -- his social security number, birth certificate, credit card, and drivers license. I even know how to forge his signature. I hope I do not have to use anything of his, though. I really don't want to rely on him any longer.

I have my own documents that Tsuyo helped me get; enough to get a job, and maybe a place to live. Now I'm glad that I paid all of that money to get my own license. Of course, I have never had much practice driving around. It was by an insane stroke of luck that my road test consisted of doing a three point turn, and passing through an intersection.

Oh, great. My thoughts are wandering. Focus! You have to figure out how to get away and keep The Bastard from finding you. The only reason he keeps us is because he gets a tax write off.

Maybe I can take a train, or a bus to New York, or some other place. Tomorrow I need to look into places far from here where it will be cheap to rent a place. Hopefully with no questions asked.

But I do not want to bring Shippou to places where those kinds of apartments are. Would it be better to avoid cities? Maybe I can find a nice, small town and hide out there. Some backwater place where I can finish my education, and then get some scholarships to go to college. After all, disappearing into the middle of nowhere is just as effective as disappearing into a crowd. I should move across the country. Maybe I should move across the country, or take Shippou to the ocean.

Plus, if I don't go to the city, it will be easier to get food. Wooded areas are bound to have game roaming around, and I can always learn to hunt. Farmland would always provide an ideal place for filching food. New Hampshire has forests. It also has no sales tax; but the high property tax might affect the price of an apartment. It would be possible to live in the woods for a while – uncomfortable, dirty, unhealthy, degrading and tiresome, but possible -- but I will have to find a real place before winter sets in.

AAAARGHHHH! Why can't I ever get a break? I glance at the clock and grunt in disgust. 4:00 A.M. Going to be a long night.

.o.

.o.

.o.

In the morning I keep a low profile as Onigumo gets ready for work. It's still early, and I had decided to finish the homework I had leftover from last night with the light from the rising sun.

Shippou had woken up a few times during the night, complaining of pain in his chest. I gave him an aspirin, and he went back to sleep. At 5:30 A.M. Shippou complained that he could not breathe very well and he had a bit of a fever. I can hear him now. His breathing is all congested, and his nose is a bright red. His cold has probably gotten worse. Youkai are usually healthy, but children and the elderly can get sick. Especially if they were just been beaten, and they were sick to begin with.

"Hey fucker!" I am jolted out of my thoughts as The Bastard slams open the door.

"Yes, sir?" I ask a blandly as I can.

"Vacuum before I get home. And I want food ready and waiting this time too!" he shouts, and does not wait for a response before he slams the door and leaves the apartment. I can relax only when the sound of his footsteps fade.

"Holy shit!" I yell, glancing at the clock. I have fifteen minutes to dress Shippou, schedule a doctor's appointment, drop him off at Tsuyo's, and get to homeroom.

"Shippou, Shippou! Wake up!" I nudge him awake as I use one hand to dial the phone and another to button up my jeans.

"Inuyasha? W'ahs goin' on?" he slurs sleepily, one hand rises to rub his eyes.

"You're going to Tsuyo's, get dressed," I tell him. I dash out and toss a piece of bread in the toaster while the phone continues to ring.

"This is Dr.Arcidi's office, how may I help you?" a pleasant voice asks on the phone.

"Yes, this is Inuyasha Gize, calling to schedule an appointment for Shippou Gize," I reply into the phone, while struggling to get socks on. I can hear Shippou moving around the room, apparently trying to find some fresh cloths.

"Inuyashaaaaaa," Shippou moans. "I'm gonna throw uuuuup."

"Shit," I curse and grab a large mixing bowl for him and run back to the room.

"And what is your relationship to Shippou, sir?" the secretary asks. I am distracted by Shippou snatching the bowl out of my hands and emptying the contents of his stomach.

"Uh... s-step brother," I stammer as the urge to vomit hits me along with the smell of bile. Shippou lays back in exhaustion after heaving a few more times.

"Can I have his guardian's name, Mr.Gize?" the secretary asks pleasantly.

"Onigumo Gize," I reply. I take the bowl from Shippou and drop it off in the bathroom to deal with later.

"Mr.Gize, it is usually our policy at this clinic to have the guardian confirm the need for an appointment," she informs me.

"I know, but Onigumo isn't available to schedule Shippou for an appointment. He's arranged with Dr.Arcidi permission for me to take care of Shippou's check ups," I less-than-patiently explain.

"Very well. Now, all I need it the insurance policy number," I hear on the other end of the phone.

"Oh, shit... hold on a second." This had to be the fourth time I tell them this. Where do they lose this information that I always have to repeat!

I finally find the card in my desk and I rattle off the number to the secretary.

"And this is registered under your name?" she asks.

"No, it's Onigumo's insurance policy," I tell her shortly. Shippou has fallen back and kicked the covers off of him. He struggles to throw them off again when I recover him, but I'm having none of it.

"Well, your policy covers this check up, and whatever medication he'll need, to some extent, and that depends on the medication. Dr.Arcidi has openings today at 9:00, 12:30, 4:00, and 4:45," the secretary says and waits for my response.

Looking at Shippou, I heave a tired sigh. He can't really sit up, he has a high fever, and to top it off, he just threw up. Looks like I will not be going to school today. But that's ok; I don't really have any tests that I'll miss.

"Um, we'll be there for the nine o'clock appointment. Will I need to sign anything?" I ask.

"No, everything seems to be in order. Just show up with Shippou, and Dr.Arcidi should be with you as soon as possible," she says.

"Yeah, thanks," I reply and hang up. I run my fingers through my long hair and grimace. I need a shower. Shippou is asleep again. I swear, that kit falls asleep so fast, I wonder if he has narcolepsy sometimes.

Glancing at the clock on my way to the bathroom, I see the time: 7:36. Good, I can probably take care of everything before I have to bring Shippou to the doctor. Before I head to the bathroom, I go to the kitchen and turn off the toaster. I probably won't be eating the toast.

I take a quick shower, only standing under the hot water for a few minutes with my ears pinned back so the water won't get in them. I hate water in my ears. When I get out, I dry off and dress up. My thoughts wander around aimlessly as I go through the motions of dressing, disposing of the mess Shippou made, fixing food, and cleaning up after I eat.

After checking in with the school, I call Tsuyo. It rings a few times, but she picks up, and in the background I can hear the voices of little children calling for her attention.

"Hey, Tsuyo. What's up?" I ask as she picks up.

"Inuyasha! Hello, how are you?" she asks concernedly. She knows a bit of ,y and Shippou's situation and has always been sympathetic.

"I'm fine, but Shippou is sick. Worse than yesterday, so I have to take him to the doctor in a while," I say casually.

"Well, you should bring him by for a few minutes later. All of the children made him get well cards," she says happily.

"Maybe," I say noncommittally. "I'll probably be stopping by anyway... you know... to say goodbye."

"So you're leaving?" she asks, her tone going from happy to concern instantly.

"Yeah, I'll tell you about it later, though. Shippou is waking up, and we have to leave in a little bit. Plus, I still want him to eat something before we leave," I say in a hushed voice. Shippou is indeed waking up, and even though no one is listening in on the conversation, I whisper out of habit.

"Alright, I'll see you at closing time, then. Shippou can pick up his cards too," she says, her voice once again turning bright and cheery.

"See you later, Tsuyo," I say, and hang up the phone.

Shippou is looking at me through glazed eyes. "Who was that, Inuyasha?" he asks.

"That was Tsuyo," I say. "She wants us to stop by for a while later. Some kids made you get well cards and she wants to give them to you."

"Really?" he asks, cheering up immediately. He loves Tsuyo, and the kids there are his best friends. It hits me again that I will be taking him away from all of his friends; but I will also be taking him away from that bastard. He can always make some new friends and he's old enough to start kindergarten now...

"Yeah, squirt. But we can't go anywhere 'till after we get you to the doctors," I say as I pick him up and bring him to the bathroom to give him a bath. Maybe the cold water will help bring down the fever.

He makes a face. "I don't like the doctor. Her hands are cold, and she's mean," he pouts. I sit him on the table top and strip him.

"Yeah, well deal with it squirt," I say teasingly, "Not everyone is as nice as me." The friendly banter is cheering him up a bit, but I can still see his exhaustion.

I go and turn on the tap in the tub and keep it at slightly cooler than room temperature.

"Nice? You? You have _got_ to be kidding me," he quips. I mock growl and gently toss him in the tub. He yelps at the cold temperature and starts shivering violently.

"W-what n-n-ic-c-e pers-s-son would p-put me thr-r-o-o-ugh this kind o-of t-t-ort-ture?" he chatters.

"A person who's trying to get your fever down, runt," I retort as I soap up a wash cloth. He just 'humph's and leans against my hand as I wash his back. He really is worn out by this fever. He almost falls asleep against the side of the tub when I go to wash his hair.

"Hey, squirt! No falling asleep in the tub. Do you want to drown?" I ask him, lightly shaking him awake.

"Leammie aloooone," he whines. I lightly tap him on the nose and he quits his struggling.

"Come on, squirt. You can sleep on the way to the doctor," I say, and this seems to pacify him.

After I finish rinsing him off, I help him dress in some little overalls. He can barely stand up, but he insists that he do most of the work himself.

He finishes and I grab a plastic bag of cheerios, hoping that he'll snack on some. I stick him in his little jacket, and put on my own while I slide into my sneakers. Picking him up and resting him against my shoulder, I find myself wondering if this is what a single parent feels like.

The thought lingers in my head as I turn to lock the door and start walking down the street to Dr.Arcidi's. Maybe that would be a good cover for me and Shippou when we leave. Because, technically, I _am_ old enough to be his father.

**AN:** Another chapter done, another cute moment. Nothing to say, except I am sorry if the last chapter disturbed you, but you were warned.

Also, thank you HieiWannabe for editing my chapters! You do an awesome job!

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Inuyasha or any related characters.


	4. Goodbye Tsuyo

**The House of Mirth**

**By: Moon Turnip**

**Chapter 4: Goodbye Tsuyo**

It takes about forty five minutes to get down to the Doctor's office from the apartment. Onigumo took the car, like he always does, so walking is the only means of transportation available. Shippou is asleep against my shoulder, and shivering with cold, but I can think of now way to ease his discomfort. The wind is blowing hard, but my back is to it, so at least I can shield him a little.

The doctor's office is a far distance from the apartment; going by the shortest route, it's fifteen blocks and a shopping mall away. I used to walk down these streets all the time with my mom, when she would to go shopping. Before she got sick she would take me at least twice a week, and we would stop to get ice cream on the way back. I have only a few memories of my mother, but the ones I do have are mostly images of a loving, sweet woman.

Oddly enough, I miss Shippou's mother more. Even though my mother was kind and loving, Shippou's mom, Kyara, helped me more. She took care of me when I needed it most; especially while I was going through confusing changes. Changes that humans certainly don't go through. She offered her wisdom and tried her best to keep me out of trouble. She even taught me how to sew a little. Not that anyone knows, but Shippou's and my clothes have to be fixed somehow.

Kyara helped me a lot more than I realized at the time. I would probably be involved with drugs or even worse crimes right now if not for her, instead of holding a responsible job as a janitor at a daycare center. Constant abuse from Onigumo hasn't exactly done wonders for my personality or attitude.

When Kyara died, it was a blow for all of us. Shippou was inconsolable for weeks; even though he was too young to understand much, he still knew that his mother was gone. Onigumo refused to leave the house for a month, and between school, my job, and taking care of Shippou I didn't have time to grieve.

Tsuyo helped me as much as she could. She was a close friend to both my mother and Kyara. She let me take a couple of paid week's vacation from work, and she grieved for both of us. She also took care of Onigumo and Shippou when I drove myself to exhaustion and ended up in the hospital for three days.

With nothing to do, and being alone for hours on end, I finally got some time to myself. It was exactly what I needed, and I was able to really think about what I should do. I cried for Kyara in private, without anyone to see my weakness.

When I got out, I vowed to protect and care for Shippou. It was the least I could do to honor Kyara's memory, and it helped me to get over her death. Besides, the little squirt has grown on me.

I can remember the day that Onigumo came out of his funk. I don't think he ever got over of either of his wife's deaths, but he did go back to his abusive ways. It was also the first time I smelt that bitch's scent on him too.

Shippou was napping in his room, and I was doing homework at the kitchen table. I had gone shopping for food, besides chips and beer, and had only put some of the groceries away. Onigumo came in, but I paid him no attention, so I didn't notice when he hefted a big jar of mayonnaise. In the middle of memorizing some chemical equations, the jar flew past my face, shattering on the wall not two feet away from me. It startled the hell out of me, and my heart was racing so hard I thought I would have a heart attack.

He said, "Clean up this fucking kitchen right now, or the next thing I throw will be at your head." His face was red, and his clothes were disheveled. That disgusting smell of sex surrounded him, and I sneered.

"Keh, idiot; you couldn't hurt me," I said, eyes narrowed.

"But you're gonna let me. Unless you want your little brat to receive a few broken ribs," he taunted. My eyes widened. _'He wouldn't,'_ I thought.

"Think about it. I'm his legal guardian, so if I wanted to take him out of that daycare, the bitch running it would have no choice but to give him to me," he said. Filled with fury and shock, I could do nothing but stare. I thought he had changed. I thought Kyara had done more for him, but I guess her death had undone all her good work. He reached in a bag and brought out a glass jar of grape jelly.

"Get up, and clean the kitchen. Now," he said in a deadly quiet voice that I hadn't heard in three years. I quickly obeyed, remembering what life was like for the seven years before Kyara came into our lives. I knew most of the things that would get him angry, and from then on I did my best to pacify him. But I failed to stop him most of the time. Even though he's only human, he has always had some advantage over me. When I was younger, I didn't know I could fight back; he was stronger than me. Now, the habit stays with me, and it isn't abnormal to take his beatings. I wouldn't fight back anyway. He still has an advantage over me that counts for more than strength.

Now I will do everything in my power to take Shippou and me far away from his sadistic grip. Plans for our escape fly through my mind as I near youkai pediatrics.

.o.

.o.

.o.

Shippou is stirring from a restless sleep as I walk through the glass doors with the cartoon kangaroo decal on it.

"Where are we?" he asks sleepily.

"The doctor's, squirt."

"I told you I don't like her," he grumbled, burying his face in my shoulder.

"I don't care. You're sick, and the doctor needs to figure out what's wrong with you," I tell him. Walking up to the counter, I give the secretary Shippou's name and turn to sit in the waiting area. It's filled with a couple of other youkai with their sick children. In a corner is an area with some toys and a few picture books. Shippou shows no interest in moving from my arms, so I let him rest as I sit down near a pile of magazines.

"Hey squirt, you hungry?" I ask, showing him the bag of cheerios.

"No," he says shortly after glancing at the bag, and squirms to try and find a more comfortable position. I sigh, but don't push it.

A pair of crane youkai give me strange looks and glance from me to Shippou speculatively. I just ignore them, though. There's not much to do here. In the play area a young rabbit fools with some blocks and two fawn youkai fight over some toy. There are five fans on the ceiling... Seventy two tiles on the ceiling... Twenty slots filled with pamphlets against the wall... A loose spring in the chair I'm sitting in.

My eyes drift to the table stacked with parenting magazines and a fake fish tank. The top one has a picture of a mother and a small boy on the cover, running in a field full of flowers. Large pink letters at the bottom left corner loudly declare "Single Parents: Joys and Trials"

Those two nosy crane youkai twitter since they apparently have nothing better to do than gossip. I guess staring at a parenting magazine would fuel some suspicions, but come on! I've got to look at something! I'm bored out of my mind here.

"Shippou Gize?" a nurse, who smells like a horse youkai, asks from the door I stand up and bring Shippou over to the perky blond nurse.

"He's here," I say shortly. She nods and shoots me a dark look before she turns for us to follow her.

"Dr.Arcidi was called to the hospital on an emergency," she informs me. "Dr.Neumann will be filling in for her. Can Shippou stand up so I can take his height and weight, please?" She says mechanically. Her only interest is finishing what she has to do, and leaving.

"Come on squirt. Wake up; they wanna take measurements," I nudge him awake and kneel down to gently set him on his feet on the scale. He wobbles but steadies himself against the scale.

The nurse quickly takes Shippou's measurements—two feet high, even, fifty eight pounds—and then leads us into a small examination room. Going through the normal routine, she is painfully polite unless she's directing a question about Shippou's symptoms that need to be answered.

"Dr.Neumann will be with you momentarily," she says, and quickly leaves. Keh, racist bitch. Once she's out the door, Shippou collapses onto his back on the bed with a groan. I look at him guiltily. The poor kit looks miserable.

"No falling asleep Shippou. You have to be awake for the doctor," I scold him gently. It's fucking freezing in this room, and I'm pretty glad that I'm not the one that's going to be examined with cold hands.

"But Inuyasha, I'm tired!" he whines, sitting up to protest. He brings up a little hand to wipe at his eyes and runny nose. He sniffles a few times and looks close to tears. His flushed face and slightly bloodshot eyes plead for rest, and I feel even guiltier because I can't let him sleep yet.

"Squirt, you've been asleep for hours. I know you're sick, and I promise to let you rest when we're done here. Ok?" I reason, deftly swiping the snot off his face with a tissue.

"How about if I just lie down, but don't fall asleep?" he asks hopefully. I give him a flat stare.

"We both know that you're going to conk out the moment your head hits the bed," I say tiredly, rubbing my eyes. I shift to lean back in the chair and loosely cross my legs.

"Which shows you how tired I am; so let's make this easier on both of us and just let me fall asleep," he persists. I can't let my temper flare; Shippou is sick, and he doesn't mean to be a brat. Therefore I have no reason to get angry, but I can still feel my anger rising from all the stress.

"You know what?" I ask after a few deep breaths. "How about you eat those Cheerios that I brought for you?"

"No, I don't like them," he says resolutely, pouting because I won't let him have his way. I remember him devouring those things all last week.

"But you barely ate anything else all last week. What happened?" I ask, pulling the bag from my pocket.

"I just don't like them anymore," he continues to pout, his head turned away from me. He's brought up his little fox legs to tuck underneath him Indian style. He's got his arms crossed and his nose in the air. Dear God, when did he start pouting like me so much?

"Fine then; I'll just eat them all myself," I say, turning my own nose in the air and trying to entice him. I open the bag and waft the smell towards him.

"Don't they smell yummy?" I taunt. He flicks his eyes toward the bag, but turns his head further away, and sticks his nose higher up in the air. If he tries to go any further in that direction, I think he might twist his head off.

I stick a hand in the bag and pull out a few pieces.

"Mmmm. Honey nut goodness," I grab a few more pieces and smile tauntingly.

"All covered in sugar," He grunts, looking at the bag more and more often. He wants it, but he has too much pride to ask after denouncing them.

"But I had breakfast, and I don't think I can eat all of these Cheerios. I guess they'll have to go to waste," I sigh melodramatically. Shippou narrows his eyes at me, not appreciating my mocking tone.

"Oh, just give me the damn cereal," he grumbles and holds out his hand. I toss a piece at him.

"No swearing Squirt. Just because I do it, doesn't mean that you can," I reprimand him, tossing another Cheerio at him.

"Inuyasha," he says in a flat tone. I ignore him and look at the fluorescent lights on the ceiling.

"Maybe I'll give them to you if you say you're sorry for swearing," I tease.

"Inuyasha," he says more insistently.

"You know you want them,"

"Inuyasha!" he yells. "I'm gonna throw up again!" he nearly sobs. He hates throwing up.

"Oh shit," I jump up, searching for something for him to spew in. Spotting those kidney-shaped trays, I grab it just in time for him to heave. Since he threw up earlier, there was nothing much left in his stomach; but that didn't stop his stomach from trying. Even after nothing else was coming up, he continued to heave – whimpering heavily. His ribs must still be sore.

Just as Shippou is backing tentatively away from the tray, the doctor comes in. He sees Shippou's sweaty and worn out state, and frowns.

"Good morning, Shippou. How are you feeling?" He asks caringly. Shippou doesn't answer, more focused on breathing in a way that doesn't hurt than on answering a stupid question. I barely contain a snort. How does the kit look like he's doing? Keh, moron.

"Well, why don't we start?" he asks pleasantly, walking towards Shippou. Dr. Neumann looks to be some type of canine youkai. Maybe coyote or maybe some mix of coyote and wolf. He looks to be about seven hundred-ish. His hair is just starting to turn gray, showing signs of his late years.

Brown eyes closely examine Shippou and his reactions to all of the doctor's prodding. Going though the normal routine for a checkup, Neumann shines a light down Shippou's nose, and throat, and in his eyes. He listens to Shippou's heartbeat and breathing; and throughout the whole time his face remained impassive. If anything, Neumann's face got harder to read as he asked Shippou to take several deep breaths.

"Alright, Shippou, you've been a great little patient so far. Now, I'm going to press on your tummy, and I want you to tell me if anything hurts. Okay?" Neumann asks, smiling. I sit and idly watch as Shippou lies down and Neumann continues the examination.

Everything was going fine until the doctor pressed down on Shippou's stomach, a few inches below his solar plexus. Neumann frowned and I jumped up at Shippou's agonized scream after he prodded the kit's stomach.

"Inuyasha!" Shippou cried, seeking comfort. I rushed up next to him and took his hand as he cried and tried to edge away from Neumann, who had a very dark look on his face.

"I'm sorry Shippou, I didn't mean to hurt you," Neumann says. His face clears and he looks at Shippou apologetically but does not move to touch him. Shippou's very upset right now, and his instincts would probably tell him to bite Neumann and try to protect himself. Being in pain, he would probably listen to those instincts rather than to his common sense.

"If it's alright with you, Shippou, I'd like to talk to Inuyasha for a minute. Do you think you'll be alright alone?" Neumann smiled.

"No!" Shippou yells and sits up, still clinging to me with his right hand and using his left to soothe the pain in his stomach.

"Well, I'm sorry Shippou, but I really must speak with Inuyasha. You'll have to let go of him," Neumann persists.

"Hey! Let the kit let go when he's ready," I yell. I'm still ticked off that Neumann hurt Shippou, even though he didn't mean to. The least he could do is wait till Shippou stops crying.

Neumann looks annoyed, but he nods his head and turns to leave the examining room.

"I'll be back shortly," he says and exits, closing the door harder than necessary. Shippou winces at the slam and whimpers in pain. I don't know what I can do, but I try to calm him down by rubbing his back. It works, for the most part, and he stops crying and is reduced to small sniffles. Looking around, I spot a tissue box and hand Shippou one.

Once he's calmed down, I pick him up off of the table and settle him in my lap, sitting on the vinyl bed myself.

"Inuyasha, I wanna go home. I don't like it here," Shippou pleads softly, his face buried in my chest and his hands clenching the tissue.

"Listen. Shippou, I'm sorry this is turning out to be a crappy doctor visit, but it's something we have to do. If you don't get better, who's going to color all those pictures for Tsuyo?" I ask, trying to cheer him up. He loves to draw and color pictures, and most of his work goes to Tsuyo.

"Well not you, that's for sure," he grumbles.

"Hey!" I act offended. "I can draw just fine, and Tsuyo likes my pictures!" Granted, I haven't drawn a picture for Tsuyo in years, but Shippou does not need to know that.

The banter is helping Shippou take his mind off of his stomach and a small smile appears on his freckled face. "Oh yeah? Prove it! I bet I can draw better than you!" he claims, and his grin widens.

"Hmph, fine. When we're done here we'll go to Tsuyo's and we can have a contest. The winner gets a new crayon set, ok?" I ask, happy that Shippou isn't upset anymore.

"Ok," Shippou says and sighs happily as he leans against me.

The door opens and Neumann steps in. He has regained his composure and is all smiles as he sets down a vial on the counter.

"Well, I think Shippou can hear this part—"

"Just tell us what's wrong, Neumann," I growl impatiently. I don't want to be here any more than Shippou does.

"Yes, well," Neumann clears his throat and aggrievedly continues. "Shippou has a minor case of pneumonia. There is fluid in his lungs that have allowed bacteria to multiply. However, it's early enough that there will be no problem after a few medicine shots," Neumann looks expectantly at me and Shippou, waiting for an answer.

"No. No shots," Shippou says in a stern voice.

"Oi, squirt, you don't have a choice. You won't get better without the shots," I argue, turning Shippou's face to look at me.

"He's right Shippou. Pneumonia isn't just for humans. Children and very old youkai can contract pneumonia and are at just as much risk as any human," Neumann explains patiently. Shippou receives this bit of news worriedly. He looks from me to Neumann, who is preparing the injections.

"But... but shots hurt," he whimpers and clings to my arm.

"It's okay, squirt. It'll be over before you know it, and then we'll be out of this place," I reassure him. Neumann has already prepared the three shots and brought them over on a tray. He sets them down on a nearby table and Shippou looks at the long needles dubiously.

"I'm going to count to ten, and then I'll give you the shot, okay?" he says briskly.

"Yeah... sure," Shippou whispers quietly. He is keeping a close watch on Neumann as he readies the syringe.

"One," he begins to count, "two, three—"

Faster than Shippou could see Neumann has the three syringes emptied into each shoulder and his thigh. Shippou sits on my lap for a few seconds, blinking in confusion before the pain hits. Oh, yeah. He's gonna scream. And here it comes, I'm probably not gonna be able to hear for a while.

"AHHHHHHHH! That was a dirty trick!" he wails and great streams of tears flow down his beet red face.

"Look what you did!" I shout at Neumann over the racket as I try to hold onto a struggling Shippou. Damn, the little squirt's squirming so much that he's gonna fall off the table.

Neumann looks unconcerned and replies evenly, "Oh, he's just in shock. Those shots don't really hurt, he was just surprised." He turns to throw the needles in a box and begins filling out a sheet, apparently unaffected by Shippou's desperate wailing. I just got him calmed down, too. Damn, he screeches loud! Shippou flails his arms wildly. I am barely able to hold on to him, and only just catch him from falling.

"All that remains now, Mr.Gize, is for Shippou to have lots of rest. No playing hard for at least a week, drink lots of fluids, vitamins would be advisable, and no candy," Neumann explains. Standing with his feet crossed and a hand leaning on the counter, he looks like he's done this a thousand times. I nod to show I understand and finally get Shippou to sit still. "I'll be waiting outside. I need a few private words with you, and then you'll be able to go, okay?" he asks, but it sounds more like a demand. He doesn't even wait for an answer before he turns and walks out the door with his file.

I wonder what he wants to talk to me about. A cold shiver runs down my spine. What if it's about the bruises on Shippou? Oh God! There are thousands of other kids that get abused, and the situation is ignored. Why does it have to be us that they find out about?

I can't let them find out. Not before we leave.

"Inuyasha?" Shippou asks quietly. He has finally calmed down and is looking tearfully up at my face.

"What do you want?" I ask shortly. Worrying has put me in a really bad mood. I don't _mean_ to be mean to the kit, but sometimes I just come across that way.

"Are- what's wrong?" he asks worriedly. He looks genuinely concerned, and for a moment I am confused.

"Why would something be wrong with me?" I ask. "You're the one wailing because of the shots."

"Yeah, those don't hurt anymore. He just scared me when he did that," he admits. "But you smell all scared, and your knuckles are white," he points out, tapping my knuckles. I release my grip on the vinyl bed and the thing re-inflates with air.

"Don't worry about it," I dismiss the issue. "Listen; I gotta to and talk to Dr.Neumann before we can leave. Are you gonna be alright in here for a few minutes, or do you want to stay in the play area?"

"Can I go in the play place? They have those cool metal swirly things that you can move the beads on like a rollercoaster, and blocks, and cool books!" he enthuses, perking up and looking better already. I suppose those shots are working.

"Alright, and then we can go to Tsuyo's," I smile and get up. Shippou is all smiles again as he babbles about what he wants to do with his friends. He's nothing like the tearful mess before, but even through his talking, he slumps in my arms.

I gently set Shippou down next to some foam blocks in the play area and make sure he is occupied before I go back. Neumann beckons me to the examine room again and I follow. He shuts the door and stands there silently. His arms are crossed, and his face looks disapproving. I shift nervously, and lean against the examining bed.

"I have to say that there are some things that concern me," He begins. "It's not often that we get this kind of case here, but when we do we act swiftly.

"Bruises on multiple areas, evidence of a bruised and bleeding nose, remains of eye damage, cracked ribs, and trace amounts of blood in the lungs," he reads off of Shippou's file. He glances at me knowingly, he can smell my nervousness and I struggle to keep my emotions under control.

"It's obvious that that boy has been severely beaten," he says, and pauses to let the silence get to me. "Who did it?"

"Well..." I begin. I am most certainly not going to tell him the truth. There's too much that will go wrong if I go that route. "You know how kitsunes are at that age. Shippou's always getting into trouble," I finish lamely. I can tell by his pursed lips that he doesn't believe me, and becomes more aggressive, trying to get me to tell the truth. He uncrosses his arms and stands straighter as he walks towards me, hoping play on my instincts to submit to his elder authority.

"Children don't get those kind of injuries from play fighting. Who are you protecting? Did you beat him?" he growls. My eyes flash red. How_ dare _he!

"I would **_never_** hurt Shippou!" I shout and barely keep myself from attacking him. That would just be contradictory to my point; but _how dare he!_ How dare he even suggest that I would be as low as Onigumo and do that to a helpless child!

He backs off a little at my furious denial of his accusation, but he still persists. "Alright; calm down. You probably wouldn't hurt him with the way you both acted, but who are you protecting? If you let the child protection agency intervene, they can protect you."

"Listen, we don't need your protection," I say, keeping a tight reign on my temper. Anger is really the only safe emotion right now. The others – breaking down and crying, or panicking and running out of the room -- are unacceptable. This ignorant bastard doesn't know what's happening, and I have no intention of enlightening him. He just better keep his fucking nose out of our business. "We're doing fine on our own, and if you butt in, you'll ruin everything!"

"Fine on your own? The kit probably came close to death, and you call that _fine_? The longer you keep him exposed to that kind of treatment, the more you are to blame for his condition! By not reporting the abuse, you're exposing him to a harmful environment that can seriously damage someone his age!" he yells, pointing an accusing finger at me.

Does he think I don't know this? Does he think it hasn't killed me every minute since it happened? The Bastard can't know how much I hate myself for not preventing it!

"It's none of your business!"

"It is my business; firstly, because I'm treating him. Secondly, because it's my job to report suspected cases of abuse."

"...What?" I ask incredulously. Uh-oh.

"Usually we would have you talk to the clinic's psychiatrist, but she's out. As it is, we're going to send someone over to analyze the situation and see if it's necessary to intervene," he says with a note of finality in his voice. The blood drains from my face. My knees feel weak. The world feels as if it's crashing down around me.

"W-when?" I ask weakly. Neumann regards my reactions suspiciously, and no doubt notices the nervous twinge in my scent.

"It'll be unannounced. Usually they can get a warrant. In the past, we've found that the abusers were prepared for the interview and were able to hide evidence of the abuse. The element of surprise can expose things that would normally be hidden. You understand my reasons..." he tapers off and glances at me sympathetically. I must really look distressed. Damn, suck it up weakling! My face hardens, even though it feels like I'm crumbling inside.

"Look, they can help you too. If you've been subjected to abuse –"

"Whatever. I'm leaving now," I interrupt. He only nods and moves out of the way. I can't believe this is happening! I was so careful too! After all of my hard work, I will not let them take Shippou away. It looks like this will be a hasty escape.

.o.

.o.

.o.

We get to Tsuyo's at about 2:00pm. Shippou has been quiet the whole way, sensing my foul mood, but once we walk inside he becomes energetic and jumpy. He's a little sad that he missed lunch with all his friends, but he cheers up when they give him his get well cards. I have to remind him that he can't play too hard, he is supposed to be resting; to help keep him still Tsuyo sets them up with clay and cookie cutters.

"Inuyasha?" At Tsuyo's call, I look up from where I am leaning tensely against the wall. "Why don't you come with me to my office, and we can have some coffee?" she offers kindly. I nod and follow her into the small, homey-looking office at the back of the daycare center. There stands a big desk in the corner, surrounded by child-like pictures, small sculptures, and cards. There are figurines by the thousands, made out of pipe cleaner, popsicle-stick huts, coasters, and picture frames are scattered over the coffee table that stands in the middle of the room. Under a map an old couch rests between the coffee table and the left wall, and a comfortable chair is behind the desk. This room has become like a second home to me.

I head straight for the couch, and the anger-induced adrenaline rush I'd been running on since leaving the doctor's office fades. Suddenly I feel extremely tired. Not getting enough sleep for too many days, getting beaten, and taking care of Shippou have really taken their toll. I can feel a headache coming on, and I try to stave it off by rubbing my temples. Damn, today was a shitty day.

I can hear Tsuyo fixing the coffee and the aromatic smell of fresh brew fills the air as I relax for a bit on the couch. In only a few minutes, a hot cup is in my hands, fixed just the way I like it, one packet of sugar and a third of the mug with cream. Tsuyo is behind her desk, her frail-seeming hands gripping a steaming mug of their own.

"So, is Shippou any better?" she begins.

"Yeah. He threw up a couple of times, and that seems to have gotten rid of something. The doctor gave him a few shots, and he made a racket crying, but he's fine now," I answer, keeping the conversation normal.

"Well, these things happen. With everything children get into, I'm surprised that this is only the second time Shippou's gotten a bit of a cold," she says with a light laugh.

"It's not just a cold. He's got pneumonia," I correct. She looks uncomfortable, her tense expression letting me know that she knows what caused a simple cold to develop into something so serious.

"You said you were leaving," she says abruptly, cutting right to the chase. I smile inwardly. Tsuyo has never been fond of beating around the bush. Still, I sigh heavily. This won't be easy. She has been such a good friend, and all throughout my life she has helped me. I'd probably be more messed up than I am now if not for her.

"Onigumo went too far. I said I'd leave if he ever hurt Shippou, and that's what I'm gonna do," I say. I am determined, and I let it show.

"I can't change your mind?" she asks with a sad face. She already knows the answer.

"It's my job to protect him, and if I can't do it here, then I have to take him away from Onigumo."

"But there are other alternatives."

"All of which end up with us being separated!"

"But it would probably only be for a while. You'll be eighteen soon, and then you can legally adopt him."

"But by then it might be too late," I insist. "And then what? Would they let me keep him? The judge _might_ be sympathetic to me since I've taking care of him for so long, but do you really think they'd let him go with me, when he can be with a family that has two parents and a steady income?"

"And you would deny him that?" she asks seriously.

"I can take care of him just fine. I can get a job and live off the money I have saved. I won't leave him to be with strangers."

"Even if they're his own kind?" she asks. Would Shippou want that? He probably would get adopted by a kitsune family. A stable one that would take care of him.

"All I'm saying is that you should think of what's best for Shippou. I wouldn't be a good person if I didn't make you think of alternatives." Tsuyo leans closer, fixing me with a steady gaze.

"Do you know the survival rate of runaways? Most end up on the street and are unable to obtain jobs because they don't have an address. Besides that, you are going to have a child to take care of with needs just like any other person," she says gently. Everything she's saying makes sense, but I _promised_ Kyara that I would take care of Shippou. And I _will_ take care of Shippou. Whatever it takes, I _will _make sure that he is safe and provided for. My face clears of doubt and Tsuyo sits back in her chair. She knows what I have decided.

"I'm still leaving. I promised to protect him, and it'll be _me_ that does it."

"Inuyasha, you are so stubborn. Just like your mother," I stiffen at the reminder of Iyazoi. "I knew you wouldn't change your mind, but it's my job to try to make you listen to reason..." She ends with a sigh. "How are you going to keep Onigumo from finding you?" she asks. Huh. I never thought of that. Would he be able to? Would he _want _to? Suddenly an image of him bursting in and dragging me and Shippou back to that hell appears in my mind. I shiver and glance at Tsuyo.

"So you're not as prepared as you'd like to be"

"I never thought of that," I admit.

"Even though I don't agree with the road you choose to travel, would you accept my help?" she asks hopefully.

"O-of course. Why would I turn down your help? I trust you," I say, and she smiles widely at my statement. She knows it's hard to gain my trust. _I_ know it's hard to gain my trust, but I can't help it. That damn bastard has put me through too many kinds of hell for me to trust just anyone.

A conspiratorial smirk appears on Tsuyo's face that is so out of character, I can only stare. She winks and pulls out a thick yellow envelope from her desk.

"What's this?"

"Do you know Allison?" she asks instead of answering.

"Uh... yeah. Little blond one. She's always going on about 'Care Bears,'" I respond, completely confused as to what turn the conversation has taken. Well, Tsuyo is old, and she can be a bit crazy at times.

"Her father works at the state house, and her uncle is a Justice of the Peace," She says, and hands me the envelope. What I see inside makes my jaw drop. Birth certificates, Social Security cards, a driver's license, and a proof of guardianship certificate; for a Nuya Mitsishi, born November 14, 1986, and a Dayu Mitsishi, born April 3, 2000.

"These are...?"

"All I have to do is call, and he can make those legal. The only thing I need is a sample of your signature with your new name," she says softly, observing my obviously shocked face.

"This -- this is... _thank you_," I say, turning to her. She is a saint; she has done too much not to be. God, I could cry at this. Ok, regain control... dammit. She makes it so easy to let down my defenses.

"Whe—"I have to clear my throat of the lump that has annoyingly shown up, "When can I use them?"

"Oh, by tomorrow night; but I'd wait till Friday to be safe," she answers calmly. Suddenly, I hear a knock on the door and Denise, a new helper at the daycare, comes in.

"Miss Tsuyo, there's been a problem with a few kids eating the clay. Would you mind watching the group while I take them to the bathroom?" she asks shyly.

"Of course, I'll be right there," she says and Denise nods and shuts the door.

"Well..." Tsuyo says after a moment of sad silence.

"Well..." I repeat. We both stand up and she moves around her desk to the door while I take the mugs and set them next to the coffee table. Before she steps out the door, I surprise her with a rare hug. She hugs back silently and I can smell the salt of her tears.

"I'll miss you," she says brokenly. Damn, I gotta get out of here \before I start crying, too.

"I know. I'll miss you too. You've been good to me," I say. She can hear the strain in my voice and pulls away. Her lined and weathered face looks frail and sad, and suddenly her eighty two years seem to weigh heavily on her shoulders.

She smiles and opens the door; everything to be said having been said. Outside, Shippou is making figurines – or trying to – out of clay. When he sees me coming over to him he shouts "Inuyasha! Look at what I got!"

He waves a packet of cards in the air and as I kneel next to him he holds out his wrist. On it, he sports a little green bracelet with white fangs every three beads.

"Look at what Kayla gave me!" he smiles.

"That's because she's Shippou's _girlfriend!_" some random runt shouts and Shippou blushes.

"No she's not!" Shippou shouts and glares at the offender. I smile inwardly, but scowl at Shippou.

"What did I say about getting worked up? You aren't better yet, squirt," I say and tap him on the nose.

"Awww, Inuyasha," he complains, but quickly relents and goes back to his clay lump.

"Hey, Shippou, we gotta go home now."

"But we didn't even have the coloring contest!" he exclaims and whips his head to stare at me in horror. It surprises me. I didn't know that he was so looking forward to it.

"I know, but I still gotta vacuum and cook supper before he comes home," I say softly. Shippou still looks sad, but nods in understanding.

"Can we color later?" he asks hopefully. He really wants to, and he tries doing his big puppy eyes on me for good measure. It works.

"I don't see why not. But hurry up and get your things together."

"'Kay!" he chirps and hands me his cards before going off to get his shoes.

He returns and I pick him up so he's sitting on my arm. Tsuyo is at the door, looking at us sadly.

"Goodbye Tsuyo," Shippou says as he hugs her. She holds him for a few moments and then gives him back to me.

"Goodbye Shippou, Inuyasha. Good luck," she smiles and pats me on my free shoulder. I nod and walk out the door.

As we walk down the street Shippou looks at me curiously. "Was something the matter with Tsuyo?" he asks. I pause before answering him. I don't want to tell him now, maybe later when there will be no risk of letting anything slip to Onigumo.

"Nothing serious; she's just having a bad day," I tell him. He accepts it with a shrug and rests his head on my shoulder. In a few minutes he's asleep and snoring gently, his thumb stuck in his mouth.

As I watch the heart-warming sight, I wonder if I will regret my decision. How hard is this going to be?

**AN:** Ok, first of all, if you are going to comment on Inuyasha being OOC please note these two things. First: I don't care. Second: remember that this is my _alternate universe_ fic. This is Inuyasha's character. But to explain it, Inuyasha does have his tender moments around Kagome in the anime. That's because he trusts her, knows her, and is comfortable around her. So in the case of Tsuyo, it's not really out of character, as well as the case with Shippou. Just consider their histories.

Second of all, thank you HieiWannabe! The cool colors make it less boring, and even though you were sick, you still finished! You're the best

I think you gave me your cold. I feel like crap.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Inuyasha or any related characters.


	5. She Calls

**The House of Mirth**

**By: Moon Turnip**

**Chapter 5: She Calls**

"Onigumo," I hear Her say. Her voice sounds muffled, yet still sultry from the other end of the phone.

"Yes my mistress," I set down the papers I've been looking over to give my full attention to my mistress.

"Stop by Dominoes tonight. I want to discuss something with you," she says.

"As you wish—"

"Do you house a hanyou?" she interrupts. Why would she want to know about that filth?

"Yes, a stupid dog," I reply with a sneer. Stupid fuck. My grip on the phone tightens.

"Make sure he's home tonight..."

**AN: **I know it's short, but that's why you get chapter six right away. I didn't want to just make this a separate section of a chapter because I wanted each new point of view switch to start a new chapter... oh well. You get what you get. I wanted this chapter the length that it is.

Thank you my Beta! HieiWannabe, you are the best!

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Inuyasha or any related characters.


	6. A Narrow Escape

**The House of Mirth**

**By: Moon Turnip**

**Warning:** This chapter has dark themes occurring; strong lime content, and suggesting $exual abuse.

**Chapter 6: A Narrow Escape**

When I walk through the door I head straight for my room, taking off Shippou's -- ...Dayu's... -- shoes and settling him under the red and green blankets. We'll definitely be taking those. Shippou – Dayu -- can't get to sleep without them.

I get home with enough time to fry something and vacuum before Onigumo gets home. It's not really good. Even though I have to cook a lot, I'm still not good at it. Dinner is easy, just something with beef and some stir-fry that I stick it in the oven to keep warm. I vacuum next, but the damn vacuum is such an old piece of crap that it spits out more dust than it sucks up -- however that's possible, I usually get a beating for not vacuuming right, but that's one of the cases where the severity of the beating depends on The Bastard's mood. Hopefully, his little rendezvous with his bitch will have calmed him down a little bit.

The rug now as clean as this particular vacuum can get it. Actually, I think it's dirtier than before I cleaned it. Shit, there goes a night of bruise-free sleep. I pick up the clumsy equipment and drop it into the hall closet... Holy shit, I feel like some kind of housewife.

Fuck! Get _those_ images out of my head!

The small pattering of feet alerts me of Shippou's presence behind me. I turn around to catch him waddling into the kitchen with his arms full. He has his box of crayons and his giant wad of construction paper, sporting a determined look on his face. Looks like I'm in for that coloring contest.

"Come on Inuyasha," he says firmly. I sigh and follow him, rolling my eyes and shaking my head. When he makes as if to jump onto the table, I grab him before he can and gently set him down. Unperturbed, he sets down his supplies and takes a seat opposite the chair I usually sit in. I sit down and we stare at each other, as if measuring each other up before battle.

I can barely keep from cracking a smile. Shippou has such a serious look on his face, but I guess that to a child a coloring contest is a serious matter. He opens the tin box and says, "Choose your weapon."

I snicker and hide my head in my arms as I try to keep from bursting out laughing, Shippou slips some giggles.

I reach into the box at random and draw out a crayon. Shippou reaches in after me and pulls out his own. He hands me a piece of paper and takes his own, all with his serious face on, made foolish only by the fact that he's four years old, and he keeps laughing.

"Draw," he says in a scratchy western voice, imitating a cowboy at a standoff. He begins drawing furiously. His lines are wavy, and what appears to be a house looks more like a wheel of cheese. I start drawing randomly. Some blue fire here, a sword there. Damn, my sword looks like a freaky tree branch. I might as wee add a trunk... No, that line looks more like an arrow now. Some clouds, a chibbie me in the branches of the tree...

"Hey, Shippou," I ask, breaking the 'tense' silence.

"What's up?" he grunts, concentrating vigorously on drawing his boat in the sky. How do I put this? Hey, kit, want me to be your dad? I don't even know why I thought of doing this now. Couldn't it wait till we leave here? Better start small. Talk about the trip then ease into the discussion of the marking.

"I've been thinking. We want to leave this place, right?" I ask.

"Right." He grunts, shifting uncomfortably at the mention of our problems.

"Well, maybe it's time you should start thinking of what you would want to take with us when we leave," I say quietly. We both continue drawing, but the pace has noticeably slackened.

"We'll be leaving soon?" he questions.

"Before tomorrow night," I tell him. He stops drawing. What is he thinking? He's old enough to know a lot of things since youkai children develop mentally faster than human children. Not that I know how a human child matures.

"Can I take Myoga?" He looks at me worriedly. He knows that this is a very serious matter, and he's probably worried I won't let him take anything that he doesn't absolutely need, which is partly true.

"Anything that you can fit into your suitcase and your backpack." He smiles and nods. He looks noticeably happier as he starts to draw acorns.

It's quiet for a few more minutes, but I have to get this out now. He'll understand, and it's important that he knows almost everything so that he knows what not to talk about.

"Tsuyo gave us a way to make it harder for Onigumo to find us," I say calmly.

"He can find us if we leave?" Shippou squeaks in fear. His crayon rolls off the table from where he dropped it.

"Calm down runt," I snort. "He can't find us if I don't want him to, but Tsuyo gave us some stuff that can help us."

"What stuff?" he asks, looking forlornly at his dropped crayon. He knows I won't let him get it.

"Papers and stuff. They change our names,"

"How do they do that?" he asks curiously.

"Well," I begin, also starting to draw more leaves on my sickly-looking tree. How do I say this so he understands? "They just say who we are so that important people, like the police, can recognize us. We have other ones that say we are Inuyasha and Shippou, but when Tsuyo calls, the old ones will be gone and the new ones will say that we are Nuya and Dayu."

"I call Nuya!" he yells.

"Sorry, runt. That's my name,"

"But I don't wanna be Dayu," he whines.

"That's the name Tsuyo picked out for you. Do you think I want to be Nuya? I'd rather I was something less Japanese-sounding. Like Alex, or something," I grumble.

"Then why not just let me have Nuya?" Shippou persists. In his little child mind it makes perfect sense.

"Because the papers say that I'm Nuya," I tell him.

"Well fine," he sighs and sets down his crayons. "I'm done!" he cheers, pumping his fists in the air. "I win the contest!"

"Hey, I thought it was who the better drawer was; not who can draw the fastest!" I complain. Little twerp cheated!

"Nuh-uh! I was done first, and my drawing is still better than yours is. I win!" he gloats and stands to do a little victory dance on the counter top.

Grrrrr! If that little annoying runt wasn't sick, I'd bop him!

"You're lucky you're sick runt," I growl, pointing my finger threateningly at him. Shippou's eyes sparkle as he sticks out his tongue.

"Nyah nyah! I win the contest! I win the contest!" he sings and continues his victory dance.

I dart my eyes around the kitchen to find something to vent my frustration on, and my eyes land on the clock. It's Seven o'clock. Onigumo should have been home an hour ago. Not that I care much. Sometimes he gets to the apartment late, smelling like his bitch. But now it's late, and Shippou has to eat supper.

"Fine, you little cheater. Calm down or you'll make yourself sick again," I warn. He plops down on the tabletop with a highly satisfied air about him and crosses his arms. I stand up to put together two dishes of stir-fry.

It's quiet while we eat. Shippou picks out the pieces of meat and rice through the vegetables and only grudgingly eats them when I growl in warning. He makes a stupid fake gagging face, but I know for a fact that he can gag on nothing.

Wait. I just realized that Shippou's reaction shouldn't have been the way it was. I mean, you tell a four year old that they have a new name; they either won't believe you or they'll think of it as a game

"Shippou, I meant what I said. When we leave, your name will be different; and so will mine," I look at him and he glances from me to his food, as if he doesn't know where to look.

"But I like my name. Mommy gave me my name, and I wanna keep it," he says sadly.

"I wanna keep my name too; but this way Onigumo can't find us. And if he can't find us, then that means that we'll never have to live here again," I add on an upbeat note. He looks seriously, his little four-year-old mind working overtime.

"What if I forget?" he asks softly.

"Well, that's easy," I say as boisterously as I can. "We'll just write it down, and then you can keep that piece of paper safe," I say, smiling hugely, trying to cheer him up. God, I didn't realize how depressing a depressed kit is. "See? Look," I take my drawing and a black crayon and in the bottom corner, I write: 'To: Dayu (Shippou). From: Nuya (Inuyasha)'.

"There. Now we know what both of our names were," I say, presenting him with my amateur crayon drawing. He looks at it with wide eyes, and then reverently folds it and puts it in the pocket of his overalls.

"Better?" I ask.

"Yeah," he says softly and goes back to picking at his meal. Maybe I shouldn't bring up the blood marking. It would really freak him out, and he really doesn't need that after such a huge thing to adjust to. I have to do it soon though.

.o.

.o.

.o.

Its ten o'clock and The Bastard isn't home yet. Usually I wouldn't be worried, but it's kind of important now that I know where he is.

We're all packed. Shippou stuffed crayons, toys, blankets and other 'essential' items into his backpack. The thing currently looks like a colorful boulder. Anything that I could find of value, I packed. Some stuff that we would need, like medicine and other things. Some stuff I could pawn if I really needed the money. Cloths, of course, dry food, so we won't have to buy food for a few days ,but then I ran out of room. My school bag has all my books and notes from classes, as well as Shippou -- Dayu's -- and my documents.

I am determined to get scholarships so I can go to college. I have absolutely no idea how I'm going to go to college if I don't have at least some financial aid. Working part time, going to classes, and taking care of Shippou while trying to keep myself alive and fed looks impossible. Plus, with the enormous amounts of homework, I don't know how I'll keep up my grades.

No. Stop. Think of that when the time comes. I can do absolutely nothing about it now, so I should just stop thinking about it. Instead, I think about the things that I can control. Everything is packed and the suitcases are hidden from Onigumo, so nothing will arouse suspicion. As soon as possible, Shippou and I will take the luggage and leave, but I'm forgetting something, I know it!

The sound of keys turning a lock rattles through the dirty apartment. Oh yeah. That.

As quietly as I can, I move to my room where I have Shippou. He's still asleep; that's good. The thing I have to remember is not to act nervous. Onigumo is unpredictable at best about what he's gonna get pissed over. All I can do now is wait. Dammit, I'm a hanyou! He's a human! Why the fuck am I so nervous?

There's movement in the living room, then the sounds move toward the short hallway at the opposite end of the front room.

Why am I holding my breath!

Ok, breathe. Act normal.

I lean against the wall at the foot of my bead and face the doorway. Two pairs of feet obstruct the thin band of light shining under the doorway.

"He's in this room?" a female voice questions.

"Yes," The Bastard's voice answers. The female voice hums in pleasure and laughs.

"Well, what are we waiting for?" she asks, and the loose doorknob rattles as her hand starts to turn it.

"Don't bother," The Bastard says. "He's probably awake and can hear us." Uh oh. "And if he knows what's good for him and the brat, he'll open the door right now." he says in a hard voice.

What should I do? Will he go after Shipp -- Dayu? What if I don't do what he says? I know I can protect myself and Shi -- Dayu when we're in the same room, but what about when it comes time to leave? Maybe I should just follow his orders this one last time. That way, there'll be less trouble when it comes time to leave.

I get up and slowly walk towards the door.

"Hurry it up, moron, we don't have all night," he complains. I pause for a moment. I'm getting bad vibes from the other side of the door, but I shake it off. What harm could he possibly do to me -- other than batter my ego some more, or bloody my back?

I turn the doorknob and open the door. My stepfather and his bitch that stinks of sex are outside waiting for me.

Suddenly, the door is ripped open, and I bring a hand up just in time to block the blow of an aluminum baseball bat to my head. Quicker than I expect, the bitch wraps prayer beads around my blocking arm. The holy magic burns my arm, but it's not more than I can stand.

She tugs on the beads, but she can't move me. I'm a hanyou and she's a pathetic human. What the hell is going on! What brought this on?

"What the hell?" I yell.

"Shut up you stupid shit," Onigumo growls, and with his free hand aims a punch for my nose. I use my other hand to block and the bitch tries to get another set of beads around my free hand, but I'm expecting the move. I don't expect her steel-toed heels to fly up and _ram_ me in the nuts.

_That! Fucking! Hurts!_ It hurts so much, I can barely think. I can't breath, and I don't notice when she firmly ties both of my hands behind my back. All I can notice is the _sickening_ pain in my groin. **_It hurts!_**

Then all goes black when the aluminum bat smashes down right between my ears.

.o.

.o.

.o.

**Cut Scene 6.1 pages**

I have to get out of here.

As fast as I can with my injuries I run to my room, trying so hard not to scream when I feel something wet and sticky run down my leg. I can't handle zippers or anything with my wrist, so I rummage through my closet with my bloody arm. Shippou is stirring, but I ignore him as I awkwardly pull on a pair of boxers, sweat pants and a long-sleeved shirt.

"Inuyasha?" Shippou asks tentatively. I pause, trying to get words out through my constricting throat.

"Get your bag and Myoga and bring them to the door," I order him. My voice sounds harsh, and from his scent I know that I'm scaring him. He struggles out of bed, still weak, and glances at me a few times. I don't move until he's gone from the room, stuffed flea and colorful boulder in hand.

I collapse to my knees and drag out the suitcases. With only my one hand I flip open the locks and pack the last few things that I couldn't before without them being noticed. The red and green blankets, alarm clock... what else? I can't fit anything else.

Closing the suitcase proves to be a struggle. The latch won't close.

"Damn," I curse as my hand slips on the bloody latch.

"Dammit!" everything is so screwed up! There the latch is closed. Now how am I going to carry the damn things?

_A warm, wet tongue slides up my neck... slimy... disgusting... coated in oil. _

I shudder.

Hoisting my school bag onto my shoulders, I cautiously maneuver my broken hand through the other strap. I grab the handles of both suitcases in one hand and --

_"Shut up, bastard," Onigumo growls, and with his free hand aims a punch for my nose. I use my other hand to block..._

carry them to the door where Shippou is huddled into a small ball. He's crying and scared... The poor kit.

"Shippou," I grunt. I'm drained. I'm so tired, I can barely even stand. "Put on your backpack and hold on to Myoga."

He does as I tell him, quietly. I offer my arm to him and he hops on. A_aaaaaaaagh!_ That was stupid.

I whimper quietly, trying to hide the pain from Shippo -- Dayu.

"What? What happened? What did I do?" he asks worriedly.

"Nothing," I grunt in pain. "Just don't move. At all. And don't... don't touch my wrist. And hang on. I can't keep you from falling."

_Her hands rest on my knees and glide up further towards my still painful groin._

"Okay," he says seriously and nods.

A groan from the other room sends a shot of alarm through me. I fumble with the doorknob, cursing softly. I have to get out of here.

The door won't open! But there's movement back there now.

I have to leave now!

Shifting, someone getting to their feet.

Why won't the damn door open!

"Inuyasha, what's going on?"

_Her tongue snakes out to coat my thighs in that same disgusting oil as my neck. _

"That stupid fuck," someone whispers.

Oh damn...

Footsteps...

Fucking piece of shit for a door!

Coming faster, heavier.

_Fucking finally!_

I fling the door open, almost ripping it off its hinges and run. The Bastard doesn't even have a chance to get to the door before I take off and run with all the speed my demon blood gives me.

Street lights and buildings are a blur as I run. The wind blows through my tangled hair, and I can almost forget the weakness plaguing me.

In barely twenty minutes I'm at the train station. The lights are blinding, but the room is empty. Rows upon rows of wooden benches fill the big room. The only occupants are a bored clerk and a hobo or two, wrapped in newspaper.

Now sluggish, I tiredly drop the suitcases and Shippou onto a bench near the ticket window. Shippou squeaks in protest, but I completely ignore him.

I walk up to the window and the clerk gives me a disapproving look.

"Where to boy?" he asks shortly. He's a pudgy human, he's got a moustache, and little circle glasses... and... hahaha! He's wearing a pin-striped suit too! Hahahaha!

Oh, jeez, I'm hysterical aren't I?

"Two -- "

_I jerk back from her with no gainful result, but a sharp pain in my lower back makes itself known... Why does it hurt _there

"Um, how much is two tickets to New York?" I ask.

"That far away?" he questions, and I just shrug. "One hundred and eighty, for one, but that one doesn't leave for two days," he says with a significant look at my swollen face and Shippou behind me.

"Which one leaves the soonest and takes me the farthest away?" I ask. His mouth twitches -- probably laughing at my expense. I probably look similar to an abused woman running with her child from an abusive husband. I'm just as weak as one, after all.

"You can get on the train that leaves for Boston, Mass, in forty five minutes; but it doesn't leave for another two hours," he suggests. "It'll be a bit cheaper too. It's a slower train, and takes about two days to get there."

"How much?" I ask quickly. He hesitates before giving me the price.

"Look, son... are you sure you wouldn't rather I call the police or somethin'?" he asks softly, in a grand-fatherly way.

"How much?" I growl through gritted teeth. His appearance has gone from amusing to annoying very quickly.

"Two hundred for you and the kid, plus the baggage," he says after a moment.

_"But you'll do it anyway? For me? After such a nice show before, I want to see it again..." she trails off._

"What?"

"I said, are you gonna take it?" the clerk repeats. I nod and hastily wipe off my hand before I go digging through my bag for the money. _Two hundred_. That's a fraction of what I have saved, but if I keep spending money like this I'll be out soon.

I count out two hundred dollars slowly, with one hand.

"Name?" he asks.

"In -- Nuya Mitsishi." I reply. He's silent as the tickets are printed out. He frowns when he looks at the stack of bills, but sighs when he glances at me and Shippou again.

"The cost of meals and lodging is included in the price. You'll get to Boston on the twenty first, and there'll be a few stops before that," he says in a resigned way. I nod in thanks and take the tickets and receipt.

Now that that's done... what next?

I have forty five minutes before we're allowed on the train. I sit down heavily next to Shippou and gently rest my wrist in my lap. Shippou scoots closer to me and crawls into my lap as well.

"Inuyasha, what's wrong with your hand? It's all puffy and big!" he exclaims worriedly when he notices my damaged wrist.

"Nothing, runt. Keep it down would ya?" I growl impatiently. "Remember, my name isn't Inuyasha. It's Nuya and you're Dayu."

"Oh, right. Sorry," he whispers. We sit in silence for a few minutes, but it's interrupted by my hiss of pain. Shippou -- Dayu was poking my wrist.

"Leave it alone, would you?" I growl angrily, and in pain, and pull it away from him.

"Does it hurt?"

"Yes!" I roar exasperatedly, flinging up my other arm. Which proved to be a stupid move.

"Oh," he says softly, and buries his head into my stomach. I sigh and slump back into the bench.

"It'll get better soon," I reassure him. "All I need is a good night sleep and I'll be fine."

"You should sleep too," I add when he yawns hugely. He nods, too sleepy to argue, and sticks his thumb in his mouth before his breath evens out.

I glance at the clock and sigh. Thirty-eight minutes left...

After five minutes the benches start crawling across the room. I have to move Shipp -- Dayu onto the bench so I can go to the bathroom and splash water on my face to keep me awake.

After fifteen minutes every noise sounds like Onigumo coming to drag us back with prayer beads and sealing scrolls. I keep imagining him jumping through the thick, wooden doors, swinging his huge rodeo buckle.

After twenty-five minutes a searing, stinging heat enters my bleeding arm and leg, and my wrist is an angry purple color. The trip to the bathroom every five minutes becomes torturous.

_...her mouth locks on to me. Her hands rest on my knees and glide up further towards my still painful groin... flash of red before everything goes black again. _

I think I fell asleep because the clerk wakes me up. I am startled and lash out as I regain my senses and I notice him standing there. He backs away quickly; his face is unreadable.

"Son, the train is boarding now," he informs me. I nod and stand up, securing Shippou -- Dayu against me with my good -- well, I can use it better, at least -- arm. That's before I remember that my other hand is useless.

Surprisingly, the clerk picks up the luggage and the two back packs. "Follow me," he says and heads off towards the train.

He leads Dayu and me to a ramp and I follow him. He walks down a very narrow hall, bumping the suitcases a lot, and stops in front of compartment sixty-six. He slides open the door to reveal a very small room about three feet long and six feet wide. Two cabinets that are about four feet tall, each, span the length of the room and take up an entire wall. A small stepladder rests against the cabinets to the right, and the suitcases and book bags are set down on the left side of the room

The clerk turns and addresses me. I can barely understand what he's saying. Something about a bathroom down the hall, don't open the door at the end of the hallway during the night, and something about a first-aid kit. Oh, he's set one on the bed that is inside the cabinet. The top cabinet door slides open to reveal a mattress, sheets and a pillow... those do look inviting.

I nod vaguely before he sighs and opens the bottom one and leaves, sliding the door panel behind him and enclosing me in a very tiny space.

My mind is mush. I sit down on the bottom bunk, swing my legs inside, settle Dayu against my shoulder, and flip the lights.

**AN: **If you are confused on anything in this chapter, just ask me. This is from Inuyasha's point of view, so some things—like the clerk's thoughts or motives—are unknown. I try my best to convey them in their actions and the narrating character's observations of their facial expressions, but I'm restricted a lot by the perspective I'm writing in, and by the kind of personality of the narrating character. For example, if he's not a particularly observant person, I wouldn't be describing too many things. I'd probably stick to dialogue and thoughts that deal with the generalities of the situation.

I'd also like to give a big THANK YOU (see, it's big... haha) to AI for betaing my work. You've been a big help!

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Inuyasha or any related characters.


	7. My Son

**The House of Mirth**

**By: RedHerring**

**Chapter 7: My Son**

_A young boy sits on the floor behind a coffee table, avidly watching Power Rangers. He looks completely unaware of anything around him. Distractedly, he raises a fruit roll-up to his mouth and takes a bite, his eyes always trained on the over exaggerated movements of the actors on the screen._

_The front door of the beautiful, suburban house slams, but that still can not distract the boy's attention._

_"Inuyasha!" shouts a furious voice, and the child looks up in apprehension._

_"I-I'm in the living room!" he tells his father, knowing that his father does not have a nose as good as his, and therefore cannot locate him by scent._

_Heavy, angry footsteps make the boy look at the doorway to the living room in fear. What could he have done to make his Daddy so mad?_

_Daddy now stands in the doorway; his face is red, his hair is messed up, and his shirt is un-tucked. _

_"D-daddy what—" the little boy starts to say, but cuts off in surprise when his father advances on him. He picks up the little, white-haired boy by his shirt and brings the small child close to his furious face. _

_Inuyasha tries to squirm away, frightened by his father's uncharacteristic behavior, but is harshly shaken until he stops movement. _

_"What the _hell_ have I told you about tracking mud into the house?" The man demands, spittle flecking the frightened boy's cheek._

_Why is he so mad about that? It is only a little mud, and mommy is always sure to make him clean it up._

_"I'll fucking _teach_ you to not leave mud in my house," Onigumo growls. He moves his grip to tangle in the ivory tresses of the young boy, and proceeds to drag Inuyasha to a destination across the house. Every time Inuyasha tries to get to his feet, to ease the tension on his tortured scalp, Onigumo knocks him down again; ignoring his cries._

_"Daddy, stop it! Please! I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" He cries, only to be given a painful jerk on his hair. _

_They reach a small door in a hallway adjacent to the front corridor. Without even looking inside, one can tell that it is a closet made to hide a boiler. The little boy is violently shoved into the tiny, stifling space. Without a word, Onigumo slams the door shut and walks away, too lost in pain and anger to concern himself with the desperate cries of the child in the boiler closet. _

_"Daddy! I'll clean up the mess, I promise! Please let me out! Daddy!" the young Inuyasha screams in anguish. The room feels really hot. His bangs already stick to his forehead, and it is hard to breathe. _

_"Where's Mommy? Mommy! Daddy, I'm sorry!"_

_Mommy never came home. _

.o.

.o.

.o.

"Inuyasha!" Dayu whispers, and shakes my shoulder.

"Go'way," I grumble and sigh, turning over to lie on my side.

"But, Inuyasha! You have to look out the window!" he insists. What is he doing up at this hour? What time is it? It is pitch black, and for a moment I think I have returned to the boiler room.

"It's so cool! The train is going really, really fast and there are cows outside!" he says, jumping as high as he can inside the very short sleeping compartment.

Oh right; we are on the train; on our way to Boston and a new life. That alone puts me in a good enough mood to humor Dayu because now I can forget everything; just forget everything that happened and take care of Dayu.

"Okay runt. What have you been up to?" I ask. There is obviously no window in the compartment, so he must have wandered off in boredom while I was asleep.

"Well, you were sleeping, and I didn't want to wake you up, so I went outside and I wanted to go to another train car, but the doors were too heavy to open, so I turned into my pink bubble and I saw out the windows at the top, and there were cows!" he exclaims in a massive run on sentence, flinging his hands up in excitement.

"Really now?" I say with only minor interest, yawning hugely after. He gets so exited at the smallest things.

"Yeah! Inuyasha, can we go and get something to eat, and sit near a window?" he pleads. My stomach grumbles, complaining loudly that I have been neglecting it.

"Sure, but you have to do one thing first," I tell him, sitting upright. He is not in the habit of calling me Nuya. He has to be. People might get suspicious if they hear him call me one name, and then see that my ID has another name. I know it's only paranoia, but I do not want to take any chances that Dayu or I will be dragged back to that rotten hell hole.

"What?" he says, plopping down in front of me. There is a small fluorescent light behind me, just above the pillow. I turn it on then seriously fix my eyes on Dayu.

"First, you have to promise me that you won't go wandering off when we get to Boston. It's a big city, and all the fumes from factories and cars make it hard to smell. You might get lost, and I might not be able to find you again, and you might get lost," I tell him.

He nods. "Sure thing. I'll stay close," he says.

"Secondly," I pause, making sure I have his full attention. "You have to promise to call me Nuya," I insist. He makes a sheepish face, and glances away.

"Sorry, I forgot," he replies.

"That's fine, because no one was around. But you shouldn't be in the habit of calling me Inuyasha. From now on, I'll only respond to Nuya. Got it?" I say, and he nods his head.

"Got it."

"Good. Now let's go and get something to eat. I'm starving," I say, bending nearly in half getting out of the compartment. I glance at my blood-caked shirt and shudder, feeling completely filthy. For now I can change clothes, and after breakfast I will take Dayu to get cleaned up.

After I change my shirt and pants, which have disturbing amounts of blood on them, I tie back my hair. My hair is matted with blood as well, but there is nothing I can do to get it out right now. Sliding open the door to leave, Dayu follows me, crawling up my leg to cling to my shoulder in a half piggy-back style.

According to the map of the train, beside the door leading to the next car, we are in the fifth car from the caboose. Bathrooms are at the front end of each car, and there are six more cars that have box-beds in front of us. Then there are cars where one can just sit, and then the dining cars, and then the storage cars where they probably keep all the food.

Unthinking, I try to open the door with my injured wrist. The pain streaks up my arm and, for a moment, makes me dizzy. The bones shift, returning to their original positions, as I flex my hand. Moving it is difficult. It hurts like hell, and for all the pain, I can barely force my hand to twitch….

I shrug it off; it is probably still healing. It should be fine once it's done healing. When we walk from car to car, there is a jumpy kind of bridge and it is covered securely with a metal skin. The noise is abominably loud, so we're lucky that it only takes a few seconds to pass through each part.

Few people remain in the sleeping cars. Not that there are many people to begin with, anyway. The train probably left very early in the morning.

A clock indicates that it is noon, so the dining cars are probably filled. No one looks at us as Dayu and I pass by. They are immersed in their own conversations and worries. To them, we are practically invisible.

Lunch on the dining cars couldn't be called a feast. Someone set up a buffet table with trays of cold cuts, bread, muffins, fruit, and salad. What space is not taken up by the table, is filled by booths that hold up to four people and a narrow walkway.

I grab a chocolate muffin to eat. Although I am still tired, and not very hungry anymore, but I have to eat something in order to have the energy to heal.

Dayu gets very excited over making his own sandwich. He piles something of everything on a plate, and holds it over his head as he caries his food over to the closest booth with a window. As he carries on about the cows, I look out the window and nod every once in a while, just so he thinks I'm listening.

_"Aww, Onigumo," she coos. "Isn't he cute?" She circles around me, and now that she's in front of me -- and not trying to trap me with rosary beads -- I can see her fully. I haven't seen more provocative and revealing on prostitutes. _

"Nuya!" Dayu's shout jolts me out of that random flashback.

What the hell was that?

"What is it Dayu?" I ask quietly, still shaken from that flashback. It was like I was back there again.

"Are you not gonna eat your muffin? Because I'm done eating, and I wanna go play now. Can we go play now? Maybe we can play cards, or color, or space ship destroyer!" he finishe3s enthusiastically and pumps a fist in the air.

I star at the picked-apart muffin. Even though I should be hungry, I am not.

"No, I'm finished. Let's go get cleaned up before we go play," I say. He pouts as I pick him up to bring him to the bathroom in our train car.

Dayu is a monster during his bath. The bathroom is very small, and there is only a shower head in the wall. To avoid scaring Dayu with my injuries, I have him get cleaned up first, and then lock him in our 'room' while I take a shower. H's a smart kit; he will be fine alone for half an hour.

_It hurts to move my head. It hurts to move my eyes. I can't even move my ears. I can barely breathe. I can barely sense the world around me. I almost feel like crying, but as I continue to wake up my head clears and the world comes into sharper focus. It's some how... colder that before. I can't stop shivering. There's something warm in my lap though. _

Damn it! The porcelain tiles crack and grind under my fist. Why can I not stop remembering it? I don't want to remember anything about it, because then I will remember what they did to me. I hate feeling this dirty and violated.

There is nothing to stop the scenes from playing out in my head, nothing distracting enough to keep my attention, and the images force me to my knees. I'm a pathetic mess of weakness. I lay, curled into a ball, and brokenly sobbing into my arms, punctuated by dry heaving. The uncomfortable pain, from… what that bastard did, is gone, but I can still remember the chafed burning, and the slimy sensation of my blood and his seed running down my leg as I escaped.

I shut off most of the cold water to get it scalding hot. The slimy feeling won't go away. I have no soap, and only a ragged wash cloth, so it is difficult to get clean My skin is raw when I am done. I have to stop myself from scrubbing anymore, or else I would rub the skin right off my body. No matter what the dirty feeling _will not_ go away!

I return to the room, dressed in a sweatshirt and long, baggy jeans. I am limping slightly due to the scathing pain in my leg, and my clothes chafe my raw skin. Dayu sits on top of Myoga on the floor, using him as a booster seat to reach the top of his pile of toys. His colorful backpack droops behind him; empty and deflated.

"Nuya!" he shouts, eyes flicking excitedly from me to his tower. "Can we play now?"

My jaw hangs slack, eye twitching in bemused annoyance. Certainly that tower contains every toy that Dayu owns. Not that he owned very many to begin with. Tsuyo and I were the only people to ever buy him toys, but the fact that he was able to stuff all of that into his child-size backpack is baffling. Maybe it's some type of kitsune magic.

"Come on! You can be the professor!" he tries tempting me, waving a white-lab-coat-clad figurine.

Pain, again, throbs throughout my injuries as I hit the floor and slump against the wall. My movement is inhibited by exhausted muscles in my effort to shut and lock the door. After a painful and tiring struggle, it gets shut and half way locked.

"Here you go," says Dayu, handing me the G.I. Joe action figure and a toyhelicopter. "We are going to play 'rescue mission,'" he informs me bossily. I nod and try to look a little more energized for his sake. Having been the victim of Dayu's energy and imaginative games before, I know that depression and a lack of energy are out of place.

Somewhere in between needing to be rescued by Dayu's helicopter -- involving a complicated catch of my helicopter in mid air; Dayu's G.I. Joe being captured by the evil overlord of the kingdom: "Train;" and random, worrying fits of Dayu coughing with labored and congested breath, I noticed the time.

We are due to arrive in Boston at 3:00 P.M. tomorrow. It is 5:00 P.M. now, and after I do what I need to, Dayu will need at least fifteen hours of sleep to recover. Then there is just enough time to be able to pack and eat before the train arrives.

"Dayu," I interrupt his excited commentary.

"But no! The evil overlord of Train shoots his laser bolts and burns the Heroic Dayu! But Dayu dodges to the right, just escaping death. The laser reflects off of the mirror that Dayu secretly worked on setting up the entire battle. The rest of the laser beam is reflected back and – AHHHH! Bchwooooom!" The overlord of Train is now dead and has been turned upside down to signify his death.

"Dayu!" I try to interrupt again, but Dayu keeps on with his game.

"Nuya! Professor Poochie has to –"

"_Dayu!_" silence...

"What now?" he pouts crabbily, crossing his arms while still holding his toys, and sitting back on his tiny paws.

"It's dinner time. We should go eat," I answer, covering a yawn while offering him my other hand.

"But we were just going to rescue Professor Poochie!" he whines.

"Dayu," I say warningly, reaching over to tap him on the nose. "That's enough. Do as I say."

"Fine," he concedes, taking down his constructed scenery and shoving the whole pile in the far corner of the room.

My legs are like wood when I stand up. I am unbearably stiff, due to sitting in very few positions over several hours.

"You know you're cleaning all of that mess up in the morning, right?" I ask.

"Yeah, yeah," he grumbles, climbing onto my shoulder once again.

My eyebrows draw together in annoyance. I reach up and grab him almost roughly by the back of his neck.

"You've been a fresh little Jerk for a while," I growl, lightly digging my fingers into the scruff of his neck.

"Hey! Ow!"

"I think that you're going straight to bed after dinner. You're getting cranky," I tell him. The abominable noise in between the carts halts any protests of Dayu's while we pass.

"That's not fair," he pouts once he can hear clearly again.

"You barely got any sleep the night before. And you're still sick," I add, pausing pointedly when he succumbs to another coughing fit. "Don't tell me I'm being unfair."

"But I don't need to go to sleep!"

"Dayu, if you keep arguing, you're not going to get any dessert." I warn, using a special treat against him. We hardly ever got dessert – or sweets of any kind – back with The Bastard.

His little body looses all tension in my arms as he goes limp in submission. "Sorry," he mumbles, and turns around to give me a brief hug.

"S'alright runt. Just behave; at least until I can deal with you being a pain," I tease. He turns around and sticks out his tongue, turning his nose up in mock arrogance.

There are more people than I expected on the train. The booths are crowded with families eating, children screaming, babies drooling, and one or two birds chirping. Random limbs hung in the walkway, requiring some awkward maneuvering on my part.

Humans and demons alike chatter at the tables eating a variety of foods. Salad, lasagna, fish, potatoes, and mixed vegetables. Trays of cake and brownies lay in crumbles with gaping chunks missing. I feel sorry for the poor S.O.B who has to clean up the mess on the floor.

"Oh my God. Look there's one now!"

"Don't tell me to look at one of those! I'm eating!"

"Hey, look; a hanyou,"

"Don't see too many of those,"

"I think it's just disgusting. I mean, it's bad enough that a demon and a human can get married, but when they have children that's just crossing the line too far,"

"Janice, shut up! He's listening to us!"

"I wonder who's little boy that is?"

"Poor boy,"

"No self-respecting mother would let a hanyou look after their boy,"

"I bet he was kidnapped to get money. I'm calling the police once we get to Boston,"

**_I hate it when people whisper shit about me!_** Do they have nothing better to talk about than my parents and what a freak I am? And now Dayu will be dragged into it.

Instead of retaliating, I ignore every whispered comment. I've grown used to it, but Dayu has not. He has gone very quiet and still, burying his face into my chest and trembling. He can hear their whispered words as well as I can, and it probably confuses him.

Somehow it is different now. It's like their words have a sharper edge to them. In my hometown, everyone already knew about me and was used to my existence. I was old news, but now it's like I can feel their eyes trying to cut me apart. It's like I'm defective and shouldn't even be alive, and should be torn apart.

By the time Dayu and I get to a booth with food my hands are sweaty and shaky. I look everywhere but at the people surrounding me and whispering. It's like their suffocating me while at the same time pushing me away in disgust.

I eat quickly, stuffing mashed potatoes, vegetables, and fish in my mouth without even tasting them. I have not eaten since the night before and my stomach has been gnawing at my insides all day.

"Dayu," I motion for his attention -- which has been focused on a hole in his seat for a good ten minutes – in between bites of food. "You should eat as much as you can. I don't know when we can get food next," I say softly. He silently picks up his fork and starts to eat slowly, looking around a lot. He tries to look out the window, but is only met by his reflection. In the window's reflection, he meets my gaze and I make a face, pulling down one eye while moving my food-filled mouth into a grotesque shape.

His loud shrieks of surprised laughter ring through the cart, earning disapproving glares from all the whisperers. I barely give them notice as I try to keep water from coming out of my nose. Dayu has stuffed his face with food and is making faces back at me.

The food-face war continues until both of us are stuffed with enough food and sweets to make us sick. It is Mission Accomplished, though. Dayu ahs forgotten about the stares – and we did get quite a few during the war; most of them weren't hostile – and ate a ton of food.

Granted, a good deal of food ended up on the table, floor, and his face and hands too, but it was worth it.

_It's just so disturbing and wrong, and _filthy_, and it's made all the worse by the noises coming from the deviant man who raised me._

I can actually feel the individual waves of disgusted shivers that run from my scalp and down my back. Why now? I was having fun, dammit!

That overwhelmingly dirty sensation crawls across my skin. I'm not talking about the "I tripped and got my cloths all dirty" feeling, I'm talking about the "I walked through a rain storm; then a foggy, sweltering bog. Followed by a roll in some horse shit, and topped off with thirteen loaded fly traps sticking to my face and arms and legs, and then some bird droppings dumped on my head" kind of filthy. The kind of filthy that gets under my skin and feels like I'll never get it off; even when I scrub my skin bloody, it will still be there, and I'll feel it there, even though it's not.

I start to panic. My heart speeds up and I really, really, hate this weird feeling. My hands get sweaty again, and my eyes dart around restlessly. I feel like clawing at my arms and screaming, and growling and yelling, anything trying to get the dirty feeling off.

I can't tolerate the food on the table and flecking my hands. Trying to keep my face straight and my scent steady, I grab napkins and start to clean up the food littering the table. Dayu looks at me worriedly. I am reacting like there is a threat around. But the only thing that is setting me off is all the food and the dirt and the memories; making me paranoid. Dayu does not understand it, and it makes him nervous. But for the life of me, I can not calm down.

He sees what I'm trying to do and starts to help. I start to calm down when the table is clean, and even more when we leave the dining carts. The dirty, permanently filthy feeling stays, though. Even when we leave all the people and food, and my panic lessens, I still feel that filth covering me.

"Nuya..."Dayu whispers fearfully. I barely notice, rushing as I am to our room, until his sniffles penetrate the fog of panic and reach my ears. His tightly curled form shakes and trembles in my arms. The suppressed cries give me pause and I hug him close once I am able to sit down on the bed in our cabin. His wails and sobs eventually rise in volume until his is chest is heaving, his face is red and streaked with tears and snot, and his lungs have a disturbing raspy rattle.

What just happened here? Is this my fault? His hands tug at my shirt while his tears soak through the fabric.

"Shhhh," I gently try to console him. I don't know how. I'm not used to it. He hasn't cried this hard since Kyara died two years ago. Even then, I didn't know what to do. He's not my pup. The only attachment I have for him comes from my human side. The only thing my demon side is concerned with is Dayu's protection and health.

"Shhhh, Dayu, it's okay. There's nothing to hurt us," I futilely try to comfort him. What do I do?

"_What's wrong?"_

_"..."_

_"Do you want to talk about it?"_

_"...no,"_

_"You'll feel better if you tell me what's wrong,"_

_"..."_

_"You know you can tell me and I won't think any less of you,"_

_"...I'm scared,"_

_"Of who, Inu, dear?"_

_"...Dad,"_

_"Oh... Come here darling,"_

_"He's different. It's scary Kyara. I don't know what he's doing..."_

"Dayu, I want you to tell me what's wrong, please?" I futilely ask, resting my hand on his head. His sobs and hiccoughing continue. A great, pained sigh escapes as I change position to lean against the head board and pull my legs inside the compartment. I'm so tired. For another fifteen minutes Dayu is so upset that he can not stop crying. I think it's best if I let him cry himself out, and then make him talk. It's what Kyara always did with me, and she fixed me up from what I was pretty well.

When Dayu calms down the only noise in our compartment is his soft, shaky breath, and the odd bursts of quick breathing you get after crying for a long time.

"Shippou..."

"I tho-o-ought that that wasn-nt my na-ame anymore," he grumbles half-heartedly.

"You know, I think I'd miss my name if everyone only ever called me Nuya, so how about this: we can call each other our real names when we're alone. Okay?" I ask calmly. It's nice and quiet in the compartment after the noisy dining cars. Dayu will probably fall asleep soon, and so will I.

"Y-yeah, okay," he says, smiling through his tears. I take out a tissue and clean his face, and toss it onto the floor outside the bed, rather than get up to throw it away.

"So, now that you're calm, do you want to tell me why you were so upset?" I ask gently.

"I was scared," he whimpers, but makes a valiant effort not to cry.

"Of what?"

"You were acting scary. You freaked out after we ate, and then you had this really scary look on your face. And before, people were saying mean things about you. I was sad," his efforts to not cry fail, and he starts to sniffle again.

"Shippou, some things in life are scary, and it's okay to cry. But you have no reason to be afraid because it's my job to make sure you are safe. Those mean people can go to heck," I tell him. Horribly sappy, but still true, and it visibly makes him feel better.

Eventually, Dayu's breathing becomes slower, deeper, and his heart slows down. He is finally asleep... Now...

What I have been dreading, and anticipating for hours. I wonder what Kyara would have to say about this. I hope she wouldn't be angry. After all, Dayu is her son, and to mark him as mine...

Carefully moving Dayu so his head rests on my shoulder, I expose his neck. If I remember what that book said, I have to make a small cut in his neck and mix a little of his and my blood at the wound. Then I think I'm supposed to use my youki to alter his scent to resemble mine in a way that a person's scent resembles his or her father's. However, I read that book a year and a half ago. I wish I could have reread it before we left, but because I was so careless I had to depart sooner than I wanted.

Quickly, so the pain does not wake him, I make the cut. It is so tiny he probably will never notice it. It only bleeds a little, and I have to make it deeper before I can start.

Once a small drop of blood has gathered at the wound, I use a fang to dig a wound in my thumb. The sharp pain seems to clear my head, and I concentrate intensely on my task at hand. The blood connects and mingles, and I can feel a ripple in my youki. I encourage that ripple, flaring it and making those ripples bigger.

Eventually my youki is swarming tightly around me, active and waiting. I can't tell, but in the dark everything looks red. Shippou's youki looks like a yellow speck in my swirling mass of red energy. It looks afraid and weak, and for a moment I want to squash it and overpower it. I want to see it squirm in pain before that yellow light is snuffed out like a lantern on a stormy sea.

**NO!**

_Fine_.

A small strip of youki reaches out to the yellow dot. The yellow flares and attacks the red. The red pokes at it again, and the yellow reacts, batting my intruding energy away, but less harshly this time. Eventually, my Youki can rest around Shippou's yellow glow and his youki rises up to respond to mine. An inexplicable feeling of pride surges from the pit of my stomach and up through my throat. From the point of blood mixing, I can see his energy following the thin stream of red – almost being escorted – to the depths of my crimson cloud. In turn, the yellow – almost gold and flashing green – speck of youki opens to allow a small portion of my youki to rest, comfortably surrounded by Shippou's energy.

On my side, red surrounds and protects yellow; on Shippou's side, yellow surrounds red. The branches of youki thin off to a barely visible line, yet still connecting us. I have no idea how much time has passed. One hour? Five? Eternity? It is too hard to tell. The serene atmosphere signals me to the fact that I must be in some kind of trance, but I do not want to pull out of it, nor can I take my eyes away from the thin band of red and yellow. I need to protect it. Nothing can disturb it, but for the life of me I can not figure out why.

For a long time I watch that band. Gradually, infinitely slowly, the spheres of alien light in Shippou's and my youki lessen. Did I fail? Why is his youki going back?

Panicking, I feed more of my youki into Shippou's yellow—

Wait. Wasn't it yellow? It is now very much less yellow, and very much more green. Where did the yellow come from? Is that green...

Kyara?

Following my youki's lead, the beam of green youki flows back into my aura. Confusion hits. Where it comes from, I do not know. Then there is that pride again. Overwhelming, suffocating, I love it. For Shippou, it's like a tangible thing in my stomach, welling up my throat and pulling my face into a grin.

Almost without my notice something happens. It scares the shit out of me. My color changed. Once red, now a deep, deep red russet color. Dark ruby and amber, almost like the color of rust or blood. Shippou's is different too. Copper. Bright, shiny copper; a little darker than a new penny.

What have I done?

Fearing harm to Shippou, I pull back my youki. His retreats too and flows back into himself.

What have I done?

I never meant to change his color. It wasn't supposed to change. The book never said anything about that. I don't remember it saying anything about a lot of what just happened.

What have I done?

What will happen? I changed his aura, his youki. The energy that defines him. In turn, I let my aura adapt to his. Will I change?

_**What have I done?**_

Exhausted, I can only sink down onto the pillow. Shipp—Dayu. Why did I start calling him Shippou again?

My aura fully retreats back into my mind, and Dayu's copper glow fades to nothing. So cold.

I pull the blankets to cover us. I feel like I am floating. The horror and guilt that gripped my gut is gone, but so is that amazing feeling of pride.

My movements are mechanical. Settling Dayu in the crook of my arm, I make sure he is covered well. Shivers wrack his shoulders and his tiny jaw chatters. My arm tightens and brings his cold body protectively closer to me.

I am so tired; I don't even wonder why I want him wrapped in my arm instead of curled up next to my head like usual.

**AN:** FINALLY! I am so frucking tired of this stupid chapter. The only parts I really liked writing was the first flashback/dream and the last marking part. Oh, the panic attack was fun to write as well. Also, new plot changes. Ohhh the plot changes. It gets kind of twisted. I hope it doesn't turn into a soap opera. Although some chapters will be centered around character relationships once other characters are introduced. To people who are bugging me about Kagome: Stop. I don't like it, and your pestering (kudos for the politeness. Not one of you was rude) will not get her in any sooner. At this point, I can't threaten to not put her in the story because she plays too big a part later on, but let me tell you that she will not be appearing for a while yet.

However, characters, that you know and will appear in chapter nine, or maybe ten are: Manten, Koharu, and maybe Hiten. But only near the end. Miroku appears in Chapter eight.

A big thank you to MechanicalRUN, my newly acquired beta. Now my sentences won't sound so awkward.

DAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA-o. Mis-A day, mis-A day, mis-A day, mis-A day, mis-A daaa-aaa-aaa-_oooooo_. Daylight come and me wan' go hooo-OOOOOME! (Because I felt like it!)

**Disclaimer:**I do not own Inuyasha or any related characters.


	8. Hello Stranger

**The House of Mirth**

**By: Moon Turnip**

**Chapter 8: Hello Stranger**

It's busy, it's crowded, it's smelly, it's freezing, it's Boston.

Not three minutes after I woke up I heard the announcement to "Please prepare to disembark. We will be arriving in Boston in exactly one hour." Dayu is still asleep, and will be for another hour or so. Guilt gnaws at my stomach every time I think of what I did. It was such a stupid idea. How could I possibly think that something like that would help my situation?

What _is_ my situation exactly? I'm in Boston with no home, very little food, very little money, and a four year old kit. When did I think this was _smart_?

I sit down on a sticky, discolored bench and let the noises wash over me. Inside this gigantic glass building there are literally thousands of people. They cover the floor like ants would cover a spill of honey, and their voices combine to create a cacophony of sound that looses any logic. Not one of them notices a hanyou sitting with a lost expression. They traipse by with some kind of tunnel vision, ignoring everyone around, above, and below them.

No one notices me. And oddly, I don't like it.

Because I was hurrying to pack Dayu's bag of toys again, I wasn't really able to get much food before the train unloaded. I have a corn muffin in my coat pocket for Dayu when he wakes up. He will be upset that I couldn't pack all of his toys. I was right in assuming that he used some of his kitsune magic, because only half of the pile fit back into his back pack. Either that, or I just suck at space-saving. I was able to stuff some more of his toys into spaces in the suitcases, but there was still a third of the pile left.

Dayu was restless for most of the night. When I woke up, he had tossed and turned himself to lie sideways across the mattress on his stomach. His legs were resting across my chest and one paw was smashed against my cheek. From the moment I opened my eyes I know I have been acting strange. I blame it on my stupidity. Never before would I have worried if Dayu would be upset for not having his toys. Before, I would have woken him up and gotten him to pack his toys himself. Walking out of the train, I caught myself messing with his hair. It is confusing.

I have to find somewhere to live, and fast. Night is approaching faster, and even at three in the afternoon, there aren't many hours of daylight left. I do not want to have to spend money on a motel room for the night, so I had better start now.

With a set jaw and a determined demeanor, I gather Dayu in my left arm and the suitcases in my right, I stand – ready to walk out into Boston and find some place to live – and promptly fall back down again. Numbing, throbbing, aching, burning, piercing pain rips through my right thigh and arm.

Well fuck.

Rolling up my sleeve, gritting my teeth against the burning pain, I almost gag at the gruesome sight. Raw and torn skin is exposed to open air. The fabric of my sleeve is stuck to the gaping maw of the wound. Pus and mottled fluids seep out and fill my nose with the putrid scent of infection. No doubt the wound on my leg is just as bad.

How could I have forgotten –?

"_I'm sorry I had to damage you, precious," she says, her hand finally reaching my groin, and caressing it lightly._

I guess there was a lot of shit happening that night.

_The bitch circles me again and leans down to whisper in my abused and bleeding ear. "But if doggy is good, then doggy won't get punished,"_

My throat constricts and burning bile rises in my throat.

_I can still smell their disgusting scents, still hear their aroused pants, still feel her tongue slurping closer to my manhood. It's just so... filthy._

Why won't they stop? Every new flashback feels more and more real! I can almost smell them again. I can feel the pain all over again, and it scares the shit out of me! It's over with; it happened days ago, and why can't I just forget it? My throat hurts from holding back the panic and frustrated tears.

Dayu stirs in my lap and starts gnawing on the hem of my shirt. I desperately latch onto the distraction – anything to get my mind off of what happened. _Anything_ to make me forget; I don't want to remember. His reddish hair is damp and it sticks in clumps to his forehead. His mouth clamps tightly to my shirt and his fangs easily shred the cotton. His nose and limbs twitch in time to his dreams.

I gently pry my torn and soaked shirt from his mouth. His face crinkles in annoyance – I wonder what he's dreaming about? – and a strange yip sounds from his throat.

Hey... I know that noise. It means he wants attention. He... he only made that noise when Kyara was alive, and maybe a few weeks after. It's the noise a kit uses to call for its parent. I used one similar on my mother, but... He wouldn't use that if a parent was not very close.

Puzzled, I keep a close eye and ear on Dayu as I pull out the first aid kit in my back pack. I take off my jacket, wincing as the material brushes against the wound, and make a small nest out of it. I move Dayu to rest on my jacket instead of the sticky, filthy bench. My chest twinges when his little hands cling to my fingers. What is this feeling?

I am barely even paying attention to cleaning the wound. It is a good thing too; I would probably start freaking out again. Dayu is still and his breathing is even. My ears focus on the slight rattle in his lungs and I frown. I need to get him help. Shouldn't the shot have worked by now, or at least started to work? I need to find a clinic and get Dayu and myself treated.

There he goes again! Making one of those noises and I know what they mean! How can I know this stuff? I'm not his father; I'm not his parent! I never understood his little combinations of yips and growls when he was born, so how do I know them now?

My eyes widen with realization. The mark. That's it; it is that mark that is doing this. It was only supposed to make him smell like a relative, but somehow it actually _made_ him my son. Just as effectively as if I were his real father.

Oh my God... I have a son. He – he's not just my little brother anymore. He's my son. _My fucking son!_

My son.

I stare at... my son... with amazement and no little trepidation. He looks so tiny, curled up in my jacket, still sleeping through all the noise and chaos of the subway. And it's weird, because he looks the same as he did before, but now he looks different. He yips again, a little more urgently this time. He is still calling for attention, and is growing frightened because he has not received comfort. Excruciatingly slowly, I lift him to rest against my chest, hooking my left arm under his bottom. I woof a comforting noise back at him and the tension leaves his body. He snuggles into my shoulder and a goofy smile struggles to spread across my face. Stupid emotions – making me look... stupid.

Something crashes and voices shout angrily. The noise jerks me out of the little world I slipped into. I tighten my grip on Dayu and take stock of my surroundings. Someone has crashed a dolly full of luggage and is yelling at a haggard-looking man in uniform. People still pass by in a rush, but there are significantly less people around. Everyone is watching the spectacle caused by the richly-dressed woman.

My throat catches. Onigumo's whore! Is it her? Same black hair, same height and build, same face! My heart feels like it is going to rocket out of my chest, and I can barely breathe. I have to get away.

Ignoring the excruciating pain in my thigh and arm, I grab the luggage and Dayu and scamper out of there. There is really nothing else to call what I did. I scampered. I ran out of there like a fucking coward and if I had a tail, it would be between my legs.

I don't even know if it was her, or someone that looked like the sex bitch, but I could not stop the panic and fear. It was consuming, debilitating, and I just had to get out of there.

The suitcases quickly grow too heavy to bear, and I sag under their weight and the pain from my injuries. I need to put these down somewhere. I need to rest.

There – a bathroom. I rush in and collapse at the far end of the room. It's fairly large, and empty. Three high, polished wooden stalls fill part of the left wall of the room, and urinals fill the rest. Everything has a brown, gold, and jade theme to it. The entire room looks very antique and the floor pattern is of pale greens, golds, and deep reds.

The handles of the suitcases slip out of my hand, and there is a dull thump as they topple over. My forlorn glance at the suitcases does not last long. I am reluctant to just leave a bunch of stuff here, but I simply can not carry it all. Not with my injuries. Plus, I have to be careful with Dayu. I can't swing him around like luggage.

I set Dayu in the far corner of the bathroom on a nest of my jacket. He snuffles the coarse fabric and scrunches into a tighter ball. What _is_ that feeling again? Setting down the suitcases beside him, I open them and examine their contents.

It is mostly cloths that fill them. There is an expensive lamp that used to be my mother's; I planned to pawn that. There is an alarm clock, but that would only get a few dollars. Those both go in the large suitcase. To start off, Dayu and I only need two – at the most three – sets of cloths. Two pairs of long pants for the both of us, two tee-shirts, two long-sleeved shirts, and two sweatshirts. A pair of sweat pants for each as well. It got really, really cold in winter back home, and I don't want to risk Dayu getting sick again when it gets freezing during winter. Four pairs of socks for each: two normal, two extra thick. All that goes in the small suitcase.

Everything else – the lamp, the alarm clock, the rest of the cloths, Dayu's toys, and various other items that were to be sold – go in the big suitcase. It pains me to put my books in there. Text books are expensive. I could get a couple hundred dollars for all of them, selling them to a used bookstore, but besides that they would help me study. I need to be able to get a good job. But the food has to go in my backpack, and the documents are already taking up room. Maybe one book? My History and Geography book; I want to keep that one. Everything else in school was easy, but history was always hard, even though it's my favorite subject. I can study the history book and probably do well enough to pass an exam for a G.E.D.

So now I have the small suitcase and two back packs. Next stop: a clinic; Dayu has to get looked at again. It also might be a good idea to find out why these wounds aren't healing

I look around anxiously, scratching an ear nervously. I feel like I'm missing something. Is it – damn – I forgot the first aid kit on that filthy bench. Oh, fuck it. I can just put together another one when t Dayu and I settled. I am not going back to that place.

I stand, leaning heavily against the wall and panting with exertion, trying to keep the whimpers from stealing out of my throat. I pick up Dayu, using only my left leg to bear my weight. I put on my jacket, ignoring the pain it brings my arm, and hoist the backpacks onto my shoulders. The small suitcase is held in my right hand, and Dayu rests on my left fore arm, positioned to avoid any contact with my wrist.

It is much easier to walk after getting rid of that load. Those books were heavy, and the rest of it was no light weight either. Normally, I would not have a problem carrying five times the weight, but recent... events... have depleted my strength.

I am able to carry Dayu out of the train station and down a long flight of stained, concrete stairs without any trouble. I get a few odd looks – maybe because of my hair or because of my ears – but am left alone. A grime-caked cobblestone courtyard greets me, and vendors are staked-out on several corners. The area is constant motion, and I don't stop and stare, not wanting to draw attention to myself. Tall buildings block out the sun and a harsh fall wind howls through alleys; flipping banners, tilting umbrellas, and flapping anything not nailed down. Dayu shivers and I glance down, my eyebrows knitting together in worry.

Without knowing what else to do, I start walking. It's an absolutely huge city, and within minutes I am so turned around I probably couldn't find my way to a toilet. Eventually, I pass by a drug store. To at least get out of the cold, I walk in, jingling the little bell above the door.

Argh! I'm wasting time! I have to get Dayu to a clinic now! I've been in such a stupor that I've just been walking around, getting myself lost, and Dayu is freezing. This is not the time for fucking around!

Pissed at myself, I approach the counter. "Do you have a phone book?" I ask. The only woman who seems to be working doesn't raise her flaming red head from her magazine as she pulls out a large yellow book from under the counter. It hits the yellowing surface with a thud and the cashier flips a page.

It doesn't take very long to find a clinic – not a hospital; I can't afford a hospital – and I jot down the address on a scrap piece of paper in one of my pockets. I push the phone book back at the unnaturally red-headed woman and she slips it back under the counter, her eyes still glued to her magazine. Her bubblegum pops and she scrapes it off her lips. I search for a map, peevishly blowing my bangs out of my eyes, and pluck out a folded map of the area.

"Hey, woman. I have something to buy," I say, intruding on the silence that had blanketed the empty store. She glances at the map in my hand and holds a hand out.

Leaving the store – map clutched in my _temporarily_ paralyzed hand with a squiggly, confusing route from the drug store to the clinic etched out in pink highlighter – I stride down the sidewalks. I avoid alleyways and darkened streets, detouring off of the pink directions to bypass some more dubious areas. The city is bigger than I imagined. I used to read books all the time; of hick farmboys and farmgirls making their way in the 'big city.' Okay, well not those kinds of books all the time. But I did read one once. Okay, half of one, and the city was New York, but it's close enough. Oddly, I find myself sympathizing with their confusion. It's just like: what do I do? How do I find an apartment? How do I do any of the things that need to be done?

I almost pass by the clinic. It is a nondescript, grey stone, short building, and the sky has darkened to a blanket of black. It isn't even the building that made me stop to notice my surroundings. A flyer on one of the bright, yet flickering, streetlamps catches my attention and causes me to glance around.

Moderately-sized, shabby letters announce what the building is, and I glance down at my map in surprise. There is Shirley Street, and the intersection of Heaton and Bung. Yep. This is the place.

Dayu stirs in my arm and raises his head to blink blearily. He's slept for more than fifteen hours, and it worried me. Well, I did do more than I intended to do. I messed up again, and Dayu has had to suffer for it.

"Uhhh..." he rasps. "Where...?"

"Hey, crazy. You slept for a long time. How are you feeling?" I ask as I push open the door of the clinic with my back. He glances around confusedly and blinks slowly.

"How...?"

"We got off of the train hours ago. I didn't wake you up because you needed rest," I explain. He nods and contentedly rests his head against my shoulder. "How are you feeling?" I ask again.

Dayu is silent, but then lifts his head in epiphany "I feel great!"

Surprise is surely visible on my face, and I quickly close my jaw. "You feel fine?" I ask suspiciously. "Take a deep breath and let it out slowly."

He complies, and not even a shudder passes through his body. I hitch him higher and grin; he grins back. "Well, that's great, Dayu." I weave through patients of all ages and conditions. How long have some been here? How long has that little blond girl sat there with her arm in a makeshift sling? How long has that harried-looking woman sat there with that yellow-tinted baby?

.o.

.o.

.o.

It takes three hours before we can see an over-stressed doctor. Dayu ate his corn muffin while I had to fill out four forms in triplicate, and when the harried man in a white coat and sweat streaming down his face finally appeared, a sharp, thin woman stepped in front of me, claiming that she had been there first (I won the argument because I was first. That whiney woman can go and kiss a cactus for all I care).

I follow him through a narrow corridor and into a long room lined with beds. Most are surrounded by a white curtain, but the ones open reveal patients in varying degrees of injury or sickness.

I am led to a small, narrow bed which would probably only be comfortable for Dayu. He compliantly sits and continues to read one of his picture books while I speak with Dr... Sao.

"So you have wounds that won't heal, do you?" he asks. He is a human with bright blue eyes and short, dirty blond hair that is spiked on top – _not_ with gel – I can smell his exhausted scent strongly... it's sweet.

"Yeah. I was attacked by a dark miko yesterday, around ten. The wounds look like they should have healed by now, but if anything they look worse." The doctor is frowning and 'hmmm's while tapping the small cleft in his chin.

"Well, let's have a look-see," he says and his hands assist me with removing my jacket and shirt. The wound is revealed and the faint scent of infection is released in full force. The smell makes me dizzy and my stomach churns. Dayu smells the stench and abandons his _Clifford_ book in concern.

"In – Nuya! That looks really bad! Who did that to you?" he asks; his bottom lip trembles.

"Just a friend of Onigumo's," I tell him, making sure I am calm, so he won't become more concerned. "I'll be fine as soon as I'm patched up. Don't worry." He still looks doubtful, but sits back down and turns his attention to Dr. Sao, who regards the four-year-old seriously.

"You'll fix him up good, right? He fixes up really good, usually. One time he told me he got hit by a truck, and he was only in bed for two days!" Dayu nods as if this is known to be a universal truth. Dr. Sao smiles reassuringly at Dayu, making sure to keep his teeth covered by his lips. Wow. Most humans don't know that even to a canine youkai, showing teeth is taken as a threat by our instincts. We train ourselves out of reacting to it, or even taking offense to it, but consider it common courtesy to not show teeth, or at the very least fangs.

"Nuya will be just fine, don't worry," he says, and Dayu relaxes and returns to his book. Dr. Sao turns back to me and pulls a tray on a stand with wheels from the foot of the bed closer to him. He sits on a rolling stool, high enough for him to reach my shoulder comfortably, and takes some cotton balls and disinfectant and begins to clean the wound.

"So what are you doing in Boston, Mr. Mitsishi?" he asks, dabbing at the wound, and getting a new piece of gauze every five dabs or so.

"Huh?"

"Your accent sounds western, nothing at all Bostonian. Are you visiting, or have you just moved?" he glances at my placid face every now and then, occasionally shifting the stool closer, only to have it roll back when he relaxes again.

"Dayu and I just moved here from Washington," I reply, looking around the room to distract myself from the sting of alcohol.

"D'you have family out here? You look a bit young to be setting out on your own," he observes. Nosey, isn't he?

"Yeah," I answer carefully, trying to stay friendly. "Dayu's mother has a flat in Chelsea." I pick a name I remember seeing title a section of Boston.

"Oh, really? I've got a cousin in Chelsea. Where about are you staying?"

"Don't really know yet. She was supposed to pick us up at the train station tomorrow, but we caught an earlier departure. We'll probably stay at a motel tonight and find her when our other train is supposed to come in." He dabs the deepest part of the wound, and I wince sharply, sucking in the air through my teeth. "Watch it!"

"Sorry, sorry." And he seems genuinely sorry. He studies the wound a bit more, picking up a metal pointy thing, and prodding the torn flesh around the edges. The pucker between his eyebrows deepens, and he straightens. "Got any more of these?" he asks.

"Uh, yeah." I can feel myself flush in embarrassment. "On my thigh; same side." He nods.

"Okay then. Drop your trousers and we'll have a look," he says, smiling sans-teeth, his eyes squinting. I fake cough and bring up a hand to hide my red face. I have never liked being so exposed to anyone, and something about Dr. Sao just makes me uncomfortable.

I don't lower my pants any further than I have to, which is right around my knees, but they slip down further anyway. I sit down on the tiny bed again and ride up the leg of my boxers to reveal another wound, but fractionally smaller. The newly-exposed wound is slightly healed over, and clotting in odd lines up and down the length of it. Dr. Sao leans in closer to examine the odd patterns of the wound and rests his hand on my thigh to use his thumb to pull the skin taught. His fingers dip and brush the back of my knee, and his warm palm keeps pulling my attention toward it.

"Who did you get angry?" he asks in amazement, removing his hand and reaching for more gauze. I laugh feebly and act as if it were a rhetorical question.

He finishes cleaning the wound in silence and throws the last bit of used gauze in a disposal bag hanging from the side of the tray. "Do you want the good news first, or the bad news?"

"Good."

"The good news is, is that the redness and swelling was only caused by a surface infection, and will probably clear up in a day or two if you keep it clean and bandaged. I'll give you a prescription for ointment to make sure it heals with minimal scarring, and kill any returning bacteria," he says, smiling and running his hands through his hair, slicking it back, and brushing it forward several times.

"And the bad news?" If that was the good news, the bad news must be killer. How can I afford the medicine?

"The bad news is you'll have to get it blessed by a legitimate monk or priestess. You have dark residue that is keeping your wound from healing, and if you don't get holy power infused in the cream the scar tissue will always cause problems. Your metabolism might slow down, you'll get sick more often, and you might even loose the use of your arm and leg." Wow, talk about a sucker punch to the nose. "And –"

"There's _more _bad news?" I ask incredulously.

"Yeah. There isn't a licensed priestess or monk for fifty miles. I can get you a freelancer monk that will do it, for a price, and I can guarantee that he'll do his job well, but you'll have to sign a waiver that will not hold the clinic responsible for any problems you encounter using a freelancer." He looks serious, and smells like he's telling the truth.

"How much will the medicine cost?" I ask, worry obviously creeping into my face and voice, even through my efforts to keep it hidden. He gets up from his stool and sits in the space between me and the foot of the bed. He pats my uninjured leg squeezes my knee 'comfortingly.'

"We're a free clinic, and if the medicine is within our funds, then our patients are able to receive it through the government's expense. I think we have one or two tubs of the burn cream you need. I'll be right back with the cream to wrap up your wounds, so keep them in the open for now." He pats my knee again and stands, heading off in the direction we came from. When he disappears behind a corner I let out a deep breath I had been holding and my shoulders slump.

I glance back to Dayu, noticing that he has been unusually quiet the entire time Dr. Sao was here. He has fallen back into the pillow of the bed with his _Clifford_ book draped over his face. His steady breathing tells me that he is asleep. His little paw twitches to his dreams, and my mouth involuntarily turns upward.

Gently, I take the book and close it, bending to tuck it into Dayu's back pack that is resting with the suitcase on the floor next to the bed. When I straighten, I tug the edges of the blanket around Dayu to make him comfortable. He snuffles the pillow before turning over with the sheet clutched firmly in his hands.

"Awwww, cutie!" a perky voice like coffee quips from the next bed over. The curtain had been closed earlier, but is now open to reveal a dark-haired youth wearing a long-sleeved, purple, button-up shirt. He has brown eyes, and a round face with a pointed chin. A gold earring dangles from his left ear. He looks to be around fourteen.

"S'cuse me?"

"The little kid you got there," he clarifies. Obviously a human.

"Oh, yeah. He's adorable," I mutter and glance elsewhere. I am not up for much conversation with another person. Dr. Sao really weirded me out, and the lingering feeling on my knees keeps distracting me. I rub the knee of my injured leg absently.

"Jeez, nasty scrape you got there. I suppose you're here for that. I'm just here for my usual checkup. In my line of work, you can't be too careful with your health," he says knowingly, leaning back on his bed and crossing his right leg to rest on his bent knee.

"Really," I ask disinterestedly, but it only seems to encourage him and he nods emphatically.

"Oh yeah, I'm around all sorts of people all day, and you never know which one might carry that bug that will strike you down faster than you can sneeze."

"You don't say?"

"I do say." I don't respond to that and continue to watch Dayu sleep. He doesn't say anything more for a while, but apparently has found a source of mild occupation in our one-sided conversation. "So which doctor are you waiting for? I know about every nurse, orderly, and doctor that comes in and out of this place."

"Dr. Sao," is my short reply. Where is he anyway?

"Hey, Mike! I haven't seen him in months, d'you mind if I wait here until he comes back?" he asks. Well, if I answer 'no,' it's obviously not going to stop him.

"Whatever," I answer, and Dr. Sao pops through two retreating nurses. I hadn't been looking for him, but it's surprising all the same that I didn't notice his approach.

"Hey, Michael!" The dark-haired boy jumps off the bed and quickly takes the few steps to embrace Dr. Sao in a tight hug. They obviously know each other well from the way the older man smiles and heartily pounds the youth's back.

"Miroku! What a coincidence, I was just calling Ryan at work to see if he could tell you to drop by." Dr. Sao pulls back from the embrace, a smile still lighting his face. He doesn't bother to hide his teeth when smiling at Miroku.

"Why didn't you try my cell?"

"You know, I forgot you had it. I think I lost the number, too."

"S'alright, buddy. You'll get it again. What did you need me for?" Miroku asks, retuning to sit on his bed. He lifts up his feet and tucks them under him, resting his arms on his folded legs.

"Oddly enough, this guy here needs some medicine blessed," he responds, waving the tub of healing cream. Miroku straightens and his face looses some of its mirth.

"Who attacked you?" he asks me.

"A dark miko," I answer. I am only slightly more inclined to be friendly to the person who could likely save my limbs. He frowns but holds out his hands for the ointment. Dr. Sao hands it over without hesitation.

The young boy holds it for a moment, contemplating the wide cap and twisting it back and forth. "This is going to tire me out, and there are at least four more hours that I can be working," he says, passing the tub from one hand to the next.

"So crash at my place," Sao says easily and shrugs. "You can even raid the refrigerator if you want to." Miroku is silent for a while, and then looks at me.

"And how do you plan on paying for my blessing?" he asks me, all traces of a smile have vanished from his face, although the good humor is still present.

"Well, I don't have much money," I begin. Miroku glances at Dr. Sao quickly and then returns his violet eyes to me. "But, you know, there's not a lot I'm not willing to do, if it means keeping my limbs." He takes a minute to think, chewing on the inside of his mouth while tossing the container of cream from hand to hand.

The silence stretches and a doubtful look crosses Miroku's face. Would he really refuse? This could mean my survival! I could try to get to the other monk, but by the time I get there either my wounds would be worse, or I wouldn't be able to pay for the blessing. On the other hand, do I really want to pay the price a fourteen-year-old mind dreams up?

Again, Sao must have read my mind because his voice interjects the silence with an alternative. "I've got an idea. Why not ask for Nuya's help to my apartment? You can raid the fridge and stay the night. Plus, I'll make up for your lost night," he says. "And Nuya can stay as well," he adds, turning to me. "It'll save you from having to pay for a motel room."

It seems plausible, and Miroku certainly looks happy about the arrangement. So why is something wrong? _Why_ is he helping me so much? We just met; how can he trust me enough to let me just walk into his house? How does _he_ know I won't steal anything?

"Fine with me," Miroku answers and holds the tub between his palms, closing his eyes. I can see his deep blue aura flare and gently, if unstably, surround the jar of cream.

What have I gotten myself into now?

**AN:** Well, there you have it: another chapter done. I would apologize for the wait, but in all honesty I'm not sorry..., maybe a little regretful that it's taking me so long to want to finish the story. I'm still looking for a beta, and if anyone is interested, I have three very long chapters that need to be checked over.

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Inuyasha or any related characters.


	9. Heart Stopping

**The House of Mirth**

**By: Moon Turnip**

**Warning: **This chapter contains graphic, yaoi content. Roughly translated, that means Gay Sex. Do not read if you are on medication, pregnant or nursing, or may become pregnant. Do not read if you have a heart condition or high cholesterol. Do not read if you are homophobic. Side effects may include dry mouth or drooling, shortness of breath, dizziness, light-headedness, nose bleeds, and, in some cases, extreme hornieness.

**Chapter 9: Heart Stopping**

Miroku passed out twenty minutes ago, right after telling me to take a left, skip two rights and take the third, and bear left onto King St. I'll have to mark the route on my map later.

Dayu rides on my shoulders and keeps up a steady stream of chatter and exclamations over the night life of Boston. Sixteen hours plus of sleeping has made the little mite a mass of energy. Thankfully, he is content to ride my shoulders.

We reach the apartment complex at around nine. I have to dig through Miroku's pocket to find the key Dr. Sao had given him to key us in. The building looks very well off; nothing like trump towers, but more than decent. It's decorated with a modern style. Odd structures of metal adorn some tables and a bench or two line the hallway outside a laundry room. While looking for flat 12D I notice the directory sign also lists where a pool is, a sauna and the parking garage.

How does Sao make enough money to afford this kind of flat on a paycheck from a free health clinic?

When we finally reach the doctor's flat I drop the suitcase inside the door and my injured arm twinges in relief. The bandage came loose and I quickly let Dayu down and dump Miroku on a tan-and-red striped couch.

"Nuya, is this a hotel?" Dayu's high voice chirps from next to an entertainment system. He has the glass paneling open and is studying the vast array of buttons with glee. I dash forward and pick him up again to avoid any technological mishaps. Sitting on a wooden frame chair with orange cushions, I sit Dayu on my uninjured knee, facing me.

"We're at that doctor's place. You know the one that fixed up my scrapes? He invited us to spend the night so we wouldn't have to go to a hotel."

"That's nice!" he smiles sweetly and squirms in my lap. He is wide awake, and will probably never get to sleep, and I can't get the rest I want and leave him to wander the apartment.

"So Shippou," he grins at the use of his real name. "What do you want to do?"

"Umm. I want to go to the park." He bounces eagerly.

"Sorry, Kiddo. The park's closed because it's late. What else?"

"Can we go swimming?"

"Nope, sorry. We don't have swimming trunks, or towels, _and_ it's the middle of fall. Pick again."

"Can I jump rope, and you sing the rhymes?" Harmless enough, and if I move the coffee table, there'll be enough room for him to go wild without potential breaking of valuable things.

Dayu gets his rope out of the front pocket of his back pack and brings it over to the space I cleared. I sit back in the orange chair and Dayu obligingly falls into my plan to wear him out in two hours. Mwahaha!

Forty minuets later, he's still going, and has even dragged me into holding one end of two ropes, while a copy of himself holds the other end. He is doing Double Dutch, even doing little half-spins in between jumps. I have to repeat the same stupid rhymes over and over. Miroku is still snoring, and probably wouldn't wake if a herd of buffalo would come charging through the room.

"...how many doctors will it take? One, Two, three... Shippou?"

"Yeah?" he squeaks out between pants.

"Why not try shape-shifting while you jump rope?" I ask, keeping my voice in the beat of the rhyme. Shippou collapses and his copy disappears.

"Can't," he's breathing heavy, and his bangs are plastered to his forehead. He falls onto his back with his arms splayed out, his head falling between my feet.

"Well, then it's bath time for you, mister." He puts up no protest as I cart him to the bathroom, thankful that it has a tub. He sighs in bliss as the cool water runs over his shoulders and face, and I let him spend fifteen minuets playing with a plastic cup I found in the kitchen and a wash cloth. He likes to lie back in the water, submerging his head, and look up at me. He giggles and has to resurface when I make a grotesque face and wave.

When he is clean, I dress him in some clean pajamas from the suitcase. He brushes his teeth, and runs back to his backpack while I clean up the mess in the bathroom. The last thing I need is Sao getting upset over the mess. As I am hanging up the used towel to dry, Dayu comes around the corner carrying his _Velveteen Rabbit_ story book, a hopeful, yet slightly nervous expression on his young face.

I never really liked to read to him before. The books never held enough of my interest for me to make it enjoyable for Dayu, who had to do some considerable pleading in the first place. I suppose he thinks it might be a good time to test his luck with the way I've been behaving all night.

I suppose it wouldn't hurt, but Dayu has to eat something first. He pouts, but agrees that he is hungry and I fix us both a bowl of cereal, and he eats an orange and a banana.

There are two rooms with a bed in them. The sparsely decorated one with a full size bed must be the guest room. It has a small TV on an empty dresser and a small padded bench at the foot of the bed. Dayu tucks himself into the bed and spreads the book open to the first page on his lap. I hop on the other side of the bed and snatch the book from him without a word, and he scoots closer so he can look at the pictures as I read.

My voice is deep and steady, and Dayu relaxes more and more until his head is lying against my chest. I even try and change my voice to differentiate the characters. When the story is done I close the book and continue to lean against the headboard in silence.

"Tired yet?" I ask him.

"Nope!" he shakes his head and gets up to sit on his legs. "Let's do something else! How about _Uno_?"

"Uugh, Shippou I'm tired. Some of us didn't sleep for fifteen hours today." My arm is flung over my eyes dramatically and Shippou falls back in exasperation. "But I'll let you watch some TV until you get sleepy," I compromise, and Shippou has an expression that says, "I don't like it, but I know it's the best I'm going to get."

After I set the TV to the Disney channel and hide the remote, so he won't end up watching something like _Howard Stern_, I leave the room; shutting the door on the image of Dayu, bathed in the artificial light of the television set, and disinterestedly watching whatever "B" movie is on.

I can probably get a few hours of sleep in; that is if Sao doesn't wake me up when he comes back. If Miroku stops snoring in the next half hour, I'll be a lucky hanyou.

Before I settle down in front of the digital TV with a throw pillow from the couch I move the coffee table back. The noises seem amplified now that everything is quiet and my mind is not focusing on any tasks. The muffled noises from the Disney channel become increasingly loud as my hearing adjusts to the silence and I find myself getting up several times to lower the volume. Dayu doesn't really care, and on the fifth time I find him lightly dozing to the images of an old Popeye cartoon.

Exiting the darkened room I notice it is one o'clock. I hadn't thought I was restless for so long. Even as tired as I feel, I just can't get to sleep, so I wander into the small kitchen and wash some dishes. Michael Sao is a tidy man, and the only dishes in the sink are from Dayu and I, and some that were probably his breakfast dishes.

As I lightly place the last dish in the appropriate cabinet, I hear keys jingle in the deadbolt lock on the front door. I move to stand in the archway leading to the kitchen, and watch Sao enter, carrying two bags, and a backpack slung over one shoulder. He has changed into more casual cloths than what he was wearing in the clinic. He must have had a shower too because the heavy scent of exhaustion and sweat are absent from his body. He looks toward me with a surprised and happy expression, and greets me with a mirthful "Hello."

"Hey," I tacitly answer. He drops his keys in a dish on a table near the entrance and walks to the half-wall of the kitchen that separates it from the living room. He sets the bags down and sits on a stool, resting his elbows on the blue surface.

"How's your arm?" he asks. I shrug, keeping my eyes averted. He's making me uncomfortable again. I don't really know how, either. He isn't doing anything but showing concern, but the uneasy energy tingling through my spine is raising my defenses and furrowing my brow.

He runs his fingers through his clean hair and slides off of his stool to enter the kitchen. He has such an honest smile on his face that I feel like a complete prick for not saying anything. "Um… Thanks for letting Dayu and I stay here," I mutter while my hand reaches up to scratch behind my right ear. Michael's eyes follow.

"No problem. To be honest, I was really worried about that wound, and I wanted to make sure it is going to heal okay. If you did have some place to stay I would have offered to drop by tomorrow and check on it for you." My eyes widen in surprise and I can feel the guarded expression melting a little. "It looks like the bandage slipped anyway. I brought some special tape that only sticks to itself," he says, reaching past me and into one of the paper bags. "If you take off your shirt I can put it on for you." The corner of his mouth quirks upwards and he pulls out a roll of the red tape.

He exits the kitchen, grabbing a pair of scissors on his way out and I go to take out the medicine from the suitcase where I stashed it. I hesitate before taking off my shirt, but snort at my own timid response. If I could kick myself I would. I can't believe I've been acting like such a coward! Pull yourself together Inuyasha!

The only place to sit in the living room is on the orange chair because the couch is still taken up by Miroku. Michael gestures for me to sit and he takes the burn cream from my hands and sets it on the table along with the gauze pads, rubbing alcohol, and tape. While he tends to my arm I try to act nonchalant, but it is really hard when every time he winds the roll around my arm he manages to brush my skin.

"What about your leg?" he asks, reaching to grab my knee. I jerk it away quickly, and his hand retreats.

"It's fine." He ignores my hostile tone and reaches to grab my knee again.

"I really think I should look at it," he says seriously, and stares directly into my averted eyes. Dammit, now this guy is just acting weird. It makes me more comfortable to pull back on my shirt before I remove my jeans. Again, my wrist is making a nuisance of itself when I try to undo the button. Sao positions my injured leg between his knees and repeats the same procedure to the wound.

When he finishes and sticks the end of the tape on itself he does not remove his hands. Instead, he trails his fingers down to feather-brush the back of my knee.

"That is _enough_!" I shout and jump away. You can't just _do_ that to a person! Yes, I've been ignoring it, hoping he would stop, and the offer of his apartment was just so damn _convenient._

"Sorry, what's enough?" he asks. He frowns, as if confused, and stands up.

"Just – just everything. Just stop what you're doing, because I'm not like that!" I back away further. Miroku snorts and turns over.

"Stop what?" He has me backed against the counter top of the half wall and trapped on either side by two stools. He reaches to brush a piece of my hair off of my shoulder.

"_That_! You – You're – You keep – "

"Trying to seduce you?" He finishes for me, while resting that hand on my shoulder. "Good of you to notice." I shove his hand away and he dives in and smashes his mouth against mine. I react before I can think, and he's on his back, and my claws are at his throat.

"_I said stop_." My nostrils flare, my body is alarmingly tense, I can feel the pulse of his body beneath my fingertips.

"Nuya," he says, still calm and smiling good-naturedly. "When someone does you a favor, it is kind to return the gesture."

"I don't owe you _sex_," I snarl, and a small drop of blood glides down his perspiring throat.

"Do you know how much that medicine cost me?" He asks fiercely; his nerves are starting to show through his voice. I let him go and stand on the other end of the couch, putting Miroku between us.

"You said it was paid through funding." My eyes narrow. He rises slowly and rubs his neck.

"Not _that_ medicine. _That_ cream is a burn salve for hanyous, and is made for your kind of metabolism. The pharmacy had _two_ jars."

"You lied!"

"So did you. You have nowhere to go, and only the money you carry. You're some runaway with a little boy and a potentially dangerous injury." I'm shocked. I thought I was careful. I thought my lies would just let me slide away and let me deal with everything on my own terms. I am shaking, and I know it is because his shrewd analysis has caught me off guard.

His voice softens. "Nuya, helping people is what I _do_. On my off days I volunteer at the Neverland shelter." He moves towards me, and when I continue to avoid him he stops, sighs, and puts his hands on his hips. "You think I don't know how to recognize a lost boy?"

"I'm not a boy," I snarl.

"No, you're not," he agrees, and the admiring tone to his voice draws another growl from my throat.

"If you like helping people so much, why are you asking… for stuff like that in return?" Sex makes me think of Onigumo and his "friend." Thinking of them makes me panic. Panicking makes me angry.

"Whoa, calm down. I kissed you because I find you attractive. I like your hair, and your ears." He says it with such sincerity, and I blink in surprise before deciding I don't believe him. After all, the word Hanyou is pretty much synonymous with Monstrosity. "Also, because I think you need a lot more help than is apparent."

"What do you know?" I sneer and cross my arms.

"I know that you need a place to stay, and that I can help you find one." He slowly retreats and sits on the orange chair, resting his hands on his knees and sitting ramrod straight. I realize my claws are still flexed and I relax, but don't move from my spot of safety, and remain silent and sullen.

"You don't have to do anything. I won't make you, but if you don't then I won't be willing to do you any more favors."

"You're blackmailing me?" I ask incredulously. That fucker! That lousy bum! That maggoty fucktard! That cockbite!

"No because I won't do anything if nothing happens. You can stay here the rest of the night and leave in the morning when Miroku leaves. But if you agree, then you and your kit can stay an extra day and come with me to the shelter on Friday. It's just that if you don't pay my price, it's the last time I'll ever help you."

Stupid cockbite. Shirt-lifting fairy. Asshole!

**Option A: **Allow Dr. Michael Sao to commit acts of Gay sex with me, thus paying for his 'favors' and acquiring a place for me and Dayu to live, food to eat, and the promise of help in the future.

**Option B:** Do not pay Sao's disturbing price and be thrown back out on the street to fend for myself and Dayu, and probably end up loitering in libraries and fast food restaurants, maybe even attracting the attention of police. I can't even get a job without an address, and I can't pay for an apartment without a job.

It fucking sucks that Option A looks better.

Sao stands very slowly and inches towards me. "I won't hurt you." He moves closer, bit by bit; I look at the spot where I tried to fall asleep hours earlier and uncross my arms. "I won't force you to do weird things." Miroku and the couch no longer separate us. "You might even like it," he whispers and moves closer still….

I don't move away.

His lips brush my cheek and my eyes tightly clamp shut. His close proximity brings his scent with him and I am reminded of the sweet aroma I noticed from the clinic. He wraps an arm around my waist and pulls me flush against him; stomach to stomach, knees to knees. He continues to kiss his way toward my mouth, and I… I remain unresponsive.

And then his lips, his soft, hard, wet, dry, and hot lips find mine. He must have some demon power I don't know about because how could lightning go shooting down my back? The hand that is stroking my shoulder, neck, hair, back, waist, hip, stomach and chest seems to sensitize my skin to everything. I realize that the pounding in my ears is my own heart.

His tongue invades my mouth like a drill digging for oil. It probes deep, exploring my mouth and filling it with his taste. He _must_ have some demon blood, for no human could ever taste that good.

And suddenly, I _am_ a boy. I am a boy being kissed for the first time where the world disappears and the only world that now exists is this person's lips, and hands, and breath, and feeling everything.

Sao pulls away to regard me seriously. My eyes are still closed, but not clamped shut. My breath forces itself violently in and out of my lungs as if I had just run fifty miles in thirty minuets.

"Now tell me you didn't enjoy that." He smirks.

"I didn't enjoy that."

"Ah, but I _know_ you're lying," he whispers severely and a slight push with his hips draws my attention to the lack of space and the growing arousal between us. He pushes again, and keeps pushing until I am walking backward and he is steering me down the hall toward his bedroom.

No, no, no nonono. Backing into corner – not good. I feel hunted and his eyes do not discourage that feeling. I grab his shoulders and spin him, and I am leading him to the bedroom. He doesn't seem to object and he pushes the collar of my shirt aside to lavish the shoulder of my injured arm.

We reach the bed and he releases me when he falls back. He tears his shirt off and fumbles to push his pants off as he scoots up the bed. I stand and watch in the dark room, trying to convince myself that getting on the bed will not put me in danger.

"Take your shirt off and come here," he says, offering a hand. His breath is as labored as mine, and his boxers are tented around his groin. I hesitate, but force myself to pull the bottom of the shirt, inch by inch, over my head. When my head is free of the material Sao is closer and taking hold of my hand. "Come on the bed. Get comfortable," he whispers in my ear and shivers erupt along my back when lightning shoots down my spine again.

He pulls me to kneel on the queen-size bed with him, stomach to stomach, knees to knees. One hand rests on my waist while the other wanders behind me to grab and knead my ass. I awkwardly rest my hands on his shoulders.

Sao plants a kiss on my forehead, and my eyes look around him to stare at the drapes on his window. I don't – _Oh_ my… that felt really good. He blows in my ear again, this time while grinding his erect member into my own and a throaty groan is pulled from me. My hands grip his shoulders tightly and I grind back into him. He laughs a bit, and encourages my participation by swathing the tip of my ear with his tongue.

Oh, _God_… _fuck_. I bury my face in his neck and am engulfed in that sweet scent. I wonder if he tastes like he smells. I push him forward tentatively, with gentle nudges asking if he would lie down. His smile is huge and spreads across his face as he eagerly complies.

"I'm glad you're warming up," he remarks huskily, and spreads himself out on the bed as if offering himself to me. I take the invitation and descend again on his neck, trying out the string of kisses he had showered me with. My lips travel down his jaw, across his cheek, and to the corner of his mouth before I practice on the other side of his face. When I reach his mouth again I enter his mouth after dragging my tongue across his chin.

Cut Scene 4.1 pages

While Michael recovers I clean off my hands and face with some tissues and toss them in a waste bin by his closet. When I return to the bed he is smiling lazily at me and spreads his arms in an invitation. I enter the circle of his arms, licking his chin once more before we kiss again. I am grateful for many reasons, but mostly because this sex was not wrong, and oily, and filthy.

"So I told you you'd like it," he remarks sleepily.

"I guess I did. Thanks for not making me… you know," I mumble. He nods, but shifts so he is facing me.

"Why didn't you want to? Virgins aren't usually so terrified."

"I wasn't scared!" I'm no pansy-assed virgin _girl_ either, wailing to her boyfriend to be gentle.

"Well, you were uncomfortable about something." He won't let it go. I don't want to tell him, but he's rubbing my back so soothingly and Onigumo and his bitch seem so far away that it is now safe.

"The miko that attacked me was teamed up with my step father. He used her to subdue me and tie me up. They knocked me unconscious and then raped me. The miko attacked me after I managed to escape the rosaries she used." I am a hanyou after all. Weakling is my middle name, and Michael probably never expected more – Ack!

"Why didn't you tell me that to begin with, you dunce!" he berates me even as he hugs me tightly. Kisses litter my face, and I sputter. "I would never have asked you to do this if I had known. I probably made it worse!" He seems really agitated and worried and his concern unnerves me. I know I don't deserve it.

"No big deal. It was my fault anyway," I brush of his attention.

"Nuya, it is a big deal because something very wrong was done to you." He grabs my face between his hands to stare into my eyes. "The first thing rape victims do is blame themselves, and you _can't_," he insists.

"Alright," I admit uncomfortably, breaking the eye contact and trying to look away. I can tell from his expression that he doesn't believe me, but he lets it drop and pulls me into a bear hug so strong it's as if he is trying to push all my troubles away. And it kind of works.

It is chilly in the room when our heated bodies are not creating friction to warm us. Michael pulls the covers over us and spoons my back, his naked body flush with mine. "G'night," he mumbles, and I hear his heart rate slow down and his breath slows it's tickling journey across my shoulder.

Concerns, consequences, insecurities, they can all wait until morning. I'm sure I will think of some when my mind isn't so muddled. It would be nice to not worry about this, though. I thought I liked women. Now I have a whole new list of things to worry about, like being discriminated against for two things instead of only one.

I can handle it. Michael seems like a good teacher. If he deals with it, why can't I?

Hmm. I wonder if I have enough money to do some laundry….

**AN: **Bet you weren't expecting that. Or maybe you were. No homophobic flames please. They will be laughed at and passed around like a smoke pipe at a 70's hippie party. It is 2:20, and I have spent all night writing the last five pages so you can have the chapter.

I just recently looked back at my original outline of the story, and am startled at how different a turn the story took. I'm a bad 'cop story' writer, though. I need to watch more CSI and Law and Order before I even attempt something like that. But don't forget that a book is the best place to learn how to write something.

Again, no promises on when the next chapter will be out.

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Inuyasha or any related characters.


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